Fire of the North
by stingglamdringorcrist
Summary: At the Withered Heath, the breeding ground for Fire Drakes in the Grey Mountains, Dwarves from the mines nearby wipe out nearly every living dragon left. The only survivors are Smaug and his son Raug. Smaug chooses revenge over saving his son and leaves for a long amount of time. But soon, Raug becomes a mirror image of his father and a terror in the north of Middle-earth.(FtW pre)
1. Prologue

T.A. 2589

The mist was thick and wet and formed tiny droplets of water on the dragon's reddish-brown scales. Great wings of the same hue beat the gray clouds away from its long body.

As it continued its flight, its fiery orange eyes caught the sight of a single, solitary peak below. The mist began to dissipate as it came closer. In the sunlight, a large city appeared before the mountain. It was massive. The dragon sniffed repeatedly. It caught the scent of Men. A low growl echoed from its stomach. At the same time, the scent of Dwarves filled the air.

"Erebor and Dale," the dragon snarled. Long had he flown over these lands, always watching. He knew trade occurred between these two cities along with Esgaroth and the Men of the Lake. He was worried about the power that this corner of the land held.

"One day, each and every one will fall," the dragon said as he flew past the peak.

…

Quickly, the flat wastelands turned to forested hills. The mist was completely gone now, and Smaug could see for miles in every direction. The hills slowly grew higher into mountains and peaks. This was home. Several glints of silver light winked in the cover of the trees. Smaug became curious, but dismissed it. He flew to the northeast, where the forests became thicker and thicker. But as he ventured farther east and higher up, the trees began to disappear. Suddenly, Smaug dove over a blackened ridge.

He dove and flapped his wings, sending up black and gray dust from the floor of the valley. On either side of the large valley were two mountain ranges. This was the Withered Heath. The breeding ground and home of the Fire Drakes of the North.

There were only about twenty Fire Drakes left of their kind. Most had been decimated thousands of years before by Men and Elves. The ashen ground and numerous caves made breeding and raising young Fire Drakes easy. They were quickly multiplying. Smaug followed his regular path to a large cave on the south side of the Withered Heath. He crawled inside.

"Latha?" he asked to the darkness. His deep voice bounced off of the walls around him.

"Oh, Smaug! I thought you would never return!" Latha said with joy. The pile of gold before Smaug rippled and shook and a gray and lightly green tinted head emerged. The same fiery eyes met Smaug's and he smiled.

"How is Raug?" he asked as he slid into the pile of gold next to his mate.

"He is outside playing with some other young Drakes. I believe he is being watched by Old Grasga," she said as she huffed and buried herself back in the pile of gold. The two dragon-lovers went to sleep quickly, smoke puffing out of their nostrils and floating out of the cave, along with many others. It was sunset.

…

Smaug shook off the heavy gold over his head. He heard a strange sound coming from above the ground. It was barely nighttime. The strange sound was muffled by laughter. Smaug opened his eye and listened. He recognized the laughter as his only son, Raug. He grinned and shuffled and returned to sleep. Latha's steady breathing moved gold coins rhythmically. Suddenly, the loud sound of armor clinking and boots marching shook the cavern. Gold poured out of Smaug's cave in the vibrations. The marching stopped. Smaug lifted his head and spread his wings over Latha to protect her.

A loud and gruff yell rang through the valley. It sounded Dwarvish. A small scream from a Drake youth reached Smaug's ears. It was Raug.

Another yell went through the air. This time, shrill shrieks were heard. Smaug peeked out of the hole. Volleys and volleys of arrows were flying into the valley. He could see Grasga with his wings spread over the Drake youths. Several more dragons came out of their caves. They were mercilessly stabbed and speared with javelins and arrows. Smaug looked about in shock. Arrows could not pierce dragon hide!

"Stay here, Latha. Do not come out. I have to find Raug," Smaug growled and flew out of the cave. He quickly glided over the black earth to Grasga. He was already dead and lying on the ground. Raug and three of his friends crouched behind his silver body. The last surviving dragon from the First Age was dead. Smaug turned around and let out an ear-splitting roar of rage.

On the cliff before him was a great army. They were small compared to the size of Smaug, but they were heavily armored.

"Too long have you stolen from our people! Too long have you terrorized our lands and kingdoms! Now you will die! And your kin with you! The dominion of the Fire Drakes of the North ends here!" a voice cried. The Dwarf leader spoke boldly. "Dain I is dead! Your vile race of worms destroyed him at the doors of his house!" Smaug knew exactly what he was taking about. A Cold Drake had killed Dain the First farther west in the Grey Mountains.

"And I am glad that the filth has been killed," Smaug snarled and smirked. The dwarf let out a scream. More arrows flew through the air. By now, almost every dragon living in the Withered Heath was outside. There was no sign of Latha.

"Burn them! Defend our home!" Smaug screamed and flew silently into the air, dodging the fatal shafts. Behind him, dragons of many colors and sizes rose up and flew at the lines. Smaug felt fire burn in his chest. Just as he was in front of the line, he hovered and breathed out violently. Fire engulfed a great number of Dwarf soldiers. Screams were everywhere. A javelin whizzed and hit Smaug in the foot. The point shattered and fell to the ashen ground below. More Fire Drakes climbed and flew up the ridge, breathing fire on them all. Suddenly, a volley of arrows rose from the very back of the lines. Smaug fell into the firestorm below as arrows flew over him. In one instant, fifteen of the Fire Drakes fell to the ground with arrows in nearly every part of them. They were dead. Two-thirds of the last of the Fire Drakes were dead in one volley of arrows.

"Smaug!" Smaug heard the scream above him. In horror, Smaug watched Latha, his only love, receive a fatal blow to the chest and crash to the ground before him. Smaug was inconceivably overcome with hate.

"I AM FIRE!" he screamed wildly, his tail whipping legions of Dwarves off of the cliff. "I AM DEATH!" His golden-red fire burst onto groups of armored Dwarves. Another volley of arrows flew into the air. More dragons fell to the ground dead. There were two Dwarves left.

"You treasure your cities and gems! You are SCUM! You will BURN! You sicken me, Dwarvish usurpers and vile monsters!" Smaug recognized the leader and a foot soldier. Smaug slammed his foot over the Dwarf and crushed his body. Then, he turned to the leader. The hate flowing in Smaug's bones was hotter than the forges of Erebor.

"Apparently, you do not see the irony, worm. You just described yourself and your grand race of slithering snakes. YOU are the corrupted one," the leader said. He put an arrow onto his bow and pulled back. Just as Smaug's fire consumed his entire body, the arrow shot through the starry sky. Smaug turned around and roared in terror. The arrow pierced Raug's chest in midair. He groaned and plummeted through the air. His only child, and the only surviving Fire Drake aside from himself, was wounded on the ground, within inches of death. Smaug flew into the night air. Tears fell from his eyes. He let out a massive roar that shook the very trees. But, in the distance to the west, he saw the lit gate of the great Dwarvish mine. Hate coursed through his veins once more. Smaug had a tough decision to make: give revenge to those who murdered his entire family, or save his only son from dying. Smaug looked back at his suffering child.

"REVENGE," he growled and flew swiftly to the west. Raug was left to die. As his vision darkened, he saw his father Smaug flying away. He yelled for help, but no words left his mouth. His eyes were covered in darkness.


	2. Revenge

T.A. 2589

Raug's eyelid slid back slowly. Several burning trees illuminated the ashen ground that he lay on. Raug was lying on his back. He could see the stars twinkling above him. But as he rose to get up, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down and saw it.

A massive black arrow made of solid metal was lodged in his chest. Several of his golden-red scales were missing in the spot. He roared loudly at the pain and a branch fell from a burning tree. He desperately tried to reach his claws to the shaft, but he thought better of trying to pull it out. Raug's hands were attached to his wings like most Fire Drakes.

Suddenly, Raug remembered everything that had happened before he was shot. Two waterfalls poured down from his amber eyes as he saw the corpses of his friends and family around him. He bellowed deeply and shoved his black claws into the dirt, tightly pulling up rock and ash.

"Dwarves," he whispered and hissed. His father had always told him stories about their greed and destruction.

_Father._

Raug looked around. For hours he searched the battlefield, looking for any sign of Smaug. He knew his mother was dead, but there was a possibility that he was alive. Then, he remembered watching him fly away to the west.

"The west!" Raug said to himself. Raug rose into the air. He growled at the pain from the arrow. It was getting worse by the minute. He had to find help. Raug turned and looked back at the Withered Heath. He said a small farewell to those who had died defending their home. Then, Raug spread his wings and glided over the trees into the Grey Mountains.

…

Smaug landed before the gates of the great Dwarvish mine. He cringed at the scent of his most hated enemies. Both bronze doors were broken down. Smaug looked in amazement at the massive piles of mithril and gold inside. He was overtaken by greed. His pupils dilated as he approached the shimmering mound of riches. Smaug touched his claws to the pile. It was ice cold.

Suddenly, the pile burst open, sending mithril and gold flying everywhere. Smaug recoiled and wrapped his red tail around his body. Fire welled up in his chest. Out of the pile came an ice blue and silver dragon. Icicles fell from his chin as he opened his jaws and hissed. The cold air hit Smaug directly and steam rose from his nostrils rapidly. He coughed and wheezed.

"Have you come to steal from me?" the Cold Drake snapped. Then, a realization came in his bright green eyes. "Smaug! My dear fellow! Why did you not simply knock?" A wide grin spread over his long snout.

"Oh it's you!" Smaug came towards the pile once more. "I have heard that you have slain the great Dain!" he laughed.

"And his son, Fror," the Cold Drake laughed. "The fools thought that they had great defenses!" he snorted and frost burst into the air. Smaug coughed again. "Oh I'm dearly sorry old friend," the Cold Drake apologized.

"Lagra, the Withered Heath is destroyed," Smaug said quietly. Lagra's eyes widened. Then he began to weep.

"How many survived?" Lagra asked through icy tears.

"One," Smaug said uncertainly. Something inside of him told him that Raug was alive. He was stabbed with guilt. "Just me," he said quietly.

"Who could have possibly done this?" Lagra asked, exasperated.

"The Dwarves," Smaug growled. He whipped his tail into a stone pillar. Smaug looked up. The hall was quite beautiful. Dwarvish Runes were carved all around the large, gray, rectangular ceiling.

"Some of my kin still live to the north and the west. You can stay there," Lagra sympathized.

"No. I need revenge," Smaug hissed. He thumped out of the hall and was about to fly.

"Smaug, wait," Lagra said. "There is something that I must show you." Lagra slithered out of the doors and climbed the wall. The hall was embedded in a small hill, and there were guard towers above. Smaug followed his friend to the tower.

Lagra grabbed something off of the ground next to a frozen Dwarf.

"Does this look familiar?" Lagra asked.

He held in his claws a solid black arrow. It looked as if it was made of tough metal. Smaug recoiled.

"These devices killed us!" Smaug yelled.

"Then take caution, old friend," Lagra said. "The Dwarf kingdoms of the north have these everywhere. They call them 'Black Arrows'. When the Dwarves declared war on us several years ago, the Men of the Lake and the Dwarves of Erebor crafted these. They are one of the only things that can pierce Dragon hide." Smaug looked at the precarious weapon. "May the wind carry you swiftly," Lagra warned, a serious look in his eye. Smaug nodded and flapped his wings. He rose into the air and glided south to the Ettenmoors. The sun was just on the rise.

…

Raug's wing flapped painfully. His wound was getting even worse. Dried blood coated the area around the shaft. He had to land. It was morning now, and birds were talking in the trees. A small clearing appeared near a hill. Raug flapped his wing weakly and crashed into a tree. He moaned and fell on his front, skidding across the rocks and grass. There was a loud _chink_ when he hit the ground. Raug lifted himself up and looked.

The shaft was gone. It was half buried in the earth where he landed. A trail of blood followed from it and seeped from the hole in his chest. The wound throbbed and ached. Maybe, he thought, it would heal now that it was gone. But he was very wrong.

Raug looked around him. To his surprise, a large hall lay before him. The doors were knocked down. Above the hall, on the gray hill, stood what appeared to be a guard tower. Just from seeing the architecture of the building, Raug knew that it was Dwarvish. He crept slowly inside. There was nothing in the hallway. Some torches were on the walls, but they looked fairly new. Raug ducked his head under the doorway.

He noticed a small trail of mithril and gold coins on the ground. They led to a dark cavern inside of the hill. Raug walked to it and peeked inside.

Large carts were flying back and forth on a rope. They were filled with all kinds of jewels. Suddenly, he heard shouting below. Raug's stomach flipped when he saw how deep the cave went. Down in the darkness he thought he could just make out a group of dwarves. The walls were covered in frost and icicles. Raug jumped off of the cliff and plunged into the darkness. The air was very stuffy and smoky. When he reached the bottom, Raug saw it.

A large, blue and silver dragon was speared through the stomach, throat, and leg, and was hanging above a doorway. Dwarvish runes were crudely drawn on its body in blood. Inside the doorway was a tomb. It looked relatively clean. Raug thought for a moment that he recognized the dragon. Its bright green eyes were staring blankly at the ground.

_Lagra!_

For a moment, Raug became his father. He ran full speed down the dark cavern, until he came to a mineshaft. Dwarves drank and laughed at a small table.

"Dain is avenged!" they yelled with glee. There were about five of them. The candle light made strange shadows on the wall. Raug took a large breath of fire and blew out. The only thing remaining was a silver helmet and a half-burnt barrel of ale. The rest was black ash.

Lagra had raised Raug while Smaug was away hunting. He was like a grandfather to him. Raug pulled the wicked spears from Lagra's body and brought the dragon to the ground.

Raug felt a sudden pain in his chest. He lost his breath and his heart raced. His vision clouded. Raug had to get outside. He attempted to climb the walls, but he was too dizzy. Raug tried to fly, but the pain was too great. He would die down here and rot. Raug let out a hoarse roar. He toppled over and lay next to Lagra's corpse. Days went by, and his wound began to spread. After three weeks, Lagra was merely pile of smelly meat. Raug watched the rats come and feast on his body, and he used what strength he had left to fight them away. After two more weeks, Raug fell into a Dragon-sleep.

…

T.A. 2770

Smaug crawled slowly over a great stony hill. A sheer cliff dropped below. The shape of the valley under the massive peak formed a bowl shape. The hills dissipated to the south and opened to what appeared to be a large lake. The floor was of pine trees and gray rock. In the center of the valley, there was a large hill. Upon the hill lay a great city.

Roofs of a dull rust color were scattered here and there at different heights over the city. Light, sand colored stone houses and towers were packed tightly together. Ribbons of bright colors were hanging over archways and marketplaces. People wandered the streets, happily talking and laughing. Children frolicked and ran from their mothers' grasps to play with each other. This was Dale.

Smaug released a low grumble and a huff at the sight of it. It was merely a small obstacle before his main goal. His head shifted to the base of the giant mountain before him. A massive, dark green, stone door stood etched into the side of the mountain. Gold runes shimmered in the sunlight on the great door.

"So this is the famed Dwarf kingdom of Erebor," Smaug chuckled. For nearly two-hundred years, Smaug had traveled about the north, killing Dwarves and plundering villages. He had never forgotten what had happened to his family. The Dwarves would pay. Gray, misty clouds scattered around in the hot and dry wind. Smaug spread his wings and plunged down the side of the hill into the valley below.

Pine trees were uprooted as he glided low and near to the ground. The city of Dale was right before him. Smaug took a deep breath and covered the guard towers in orange fire. Screams suddenly rang out through the alleys and archways. Smaug sliced through a tower like a knife through butter. Stones flew about, crushing people below and damaging other buildings. Fire consumed nearly everything. People ran from the city to Erebor. Smaug glided through another building. Arrows bounced off of his tough scales like coins on a stone floor. He shot a blast of fire at a group of people, turning them all to ash. Suddenly, Smaug felt a deep pressure on his chest. In a tower to his left stood a man in armor. Long black hair rippled from his head in the firestorm. He stood at a massive contraption, the like of which Smaug had never seen before. The man loaded another arrow onto the machine and fired. Smaug yelled in pain as a hole was bore in the same spot in his chest. The man was consumed in a great wave of fire, along with many other archers.

"Black arrows!" Smaug bellowed. Dale was now no more than a pile of rubble and ash. Smaug breathed fire onto the road to Erebor as he flew toward his goal. People attempting to escape the wrath of the Dragon were killed. The pines in the valley were all ablaze.

…

The young Dwarf prince ran quickly up the dark green stone stairs. Hot wind caused flags and banners to whip and crack on the wall. His old friend was at his side. Thorin tried to hold his fur coat down as the gusts continued to shoot through the air. He looked out at the city of Dale. The towers were missing. Huge plumes of black smoke rose slowly into the air. Thorin's black beard and hair rippled behind him as he looked in terror at the horizon. Suddenly, he saw a large, golden-red figure flying toward the mountain.

"Balin! Sound the alarm!" he yelled over the whistling wind. "Call on the guard! Do it now!"

"What is it?" the old Dwarf asked quickly.

"Dragon," Thorin said calmly as he ran to a lookout into the city of Erebor. "Dragon!" he yelled as loudly as he could. Dwarves inside began to scatter and run. A massive roar echoed over the valley. Great flames breached the wall as Balin froze in terror. The Dwarf prince grabbed Balin and pulled him behind a pillar. Flames shot past the pillar and burned everything in sight. Smaug flew around and prepared to return to the gate. The two Dwarves sounded the alarm and prepared a small army from what they had available.

The Dwarves, led by Thorin and his father Thrain, charged at the great door as it burst open. Smaug whipped his tail and legions of Dwarves flew against the stone walls. The torches that dimly lit the great city went completely out as he stomped his way down the hall. He burned every living thing in his path. Looking below, he saw great hallways crisscrossing down into the darkness like veins. Smaug smelled a very familiar smell. Gold. Smaug tore his way through a stone wall. Dwarves fled out of the gate like lemmings following each other to their doom. When the wall fell, he saw a marvelous sight. There was more gold in this great room than he had ever seen in his entire life. His amber eyes gleamed at the sight of it. He dove into the pile, flapping and shaking his wings rapidly, mixing the gold and sending it everywhere. When he had settled down, he heard the screaming stop. Erebor was completely silent. Smaug pulled his head out of the pile and looked around at his hoard of gold. He grinned and laughed a deep, menacing laugh.


	3. Awakening

T.A. 2770

Raug accepted the brutal whip. Pieces of sharp Mithril were bound to the ends of the leather straps. They would not pierce his hide, but they tore his scales. The wet, smelly, dark, stone dungeon was deep underground, near the mines that kept the Dwarves so occupied. Raug was tortured by the endless clinking of the Dwarvish pickaxes on the jewel-rich stone.

The dungeon's walls were blackened from the young Dwarf prince Thorin's attempts at taming the Fire Drake. Raug had woken up from his deep slumber thirty years earlier. When he awoke, the arrow wound was gone and healed, but a hole still sat in the right side of his chest. He had scars all over his body. One dark red scar went from the top of Raug's eye to the right corner of his snout. It was littered with shards of Mithril, giving it a silver shine. Against the amber of his eyes, the scar made Raug a fearsome sight indeed. Raug had grown much in his sleep. His wings were much larger and his feet wider. Fangs of immense size rested in his jaws.

No light could enter the dungeon. Torches were brought only when Thorin came for a visit. As time went on, Thorin began entering the dungeon less often. He had given up on taming the Fire Drake. They could not be tamed.

But the prince returned for the first time in many months. He brutally whipped the poor beast.

"You serve _me!_" Thorin shrieked, sweat flying from his dark hair as he threw the leather straps onto Raug's hide. Raug groaned and tried to grab the prince. His feet, wings, neck, and tail were shackled to the walls.

"Your kind is gone. There are no more. You serve _me _now. No one else. You will protect this kingdom from outsiders," Thorin commanded. "Now, I owe the Lord of Dale a gift," Thorin said delicately. He pulled his sword out of his scabbard, the blade glinting in the torchlight. Raug let out a massive roar that shook the entire mountain. Thorin wiped the blood off of his blade and pulled the dragon claw out from under Raug's skin. Blood began pooling up at the Dwarf's boots. Thorin yelled something in Dwarvish and the great iron gate of the dungeon lifted. Two Dwarves entered, carrying a large wooden stretcher. They lifted the claw, which was nearly bigger than them, and rested it on the stretcher. The Dwarf prince spat on Raug's snout and left with the others. The low, orange light vanished into darkness. A loud metallic bang told Raug that the gate was closed. The sound of pickaxes hitting stone continued monotonously.

…

Thorin pushed open the great door and shut it behind him. The sight of how much gold the Dwarves had collected still shocked him deeply. He walked slowly down the stairs, putting on a nice fur coat with a blue collar and cuffs. The gold pile stretched far above his head on either side. It was as if he had entered a massive, shining canyon. Thorin followed the path between the piles. After some time, he came across another, older Dwarf. He was giggling stupidly with glee and dancing around, throwing coins into the air above him. Thorin watched from afar in the low-lighted gloom of the room. Light tears came to his eyes. He awkwardly gulped and carefully approached.

"Grandfather?" he said quietly. The older Dwarf stopped and stumbled in shock. He whipped around and faced the prince. He wore dark blue robes embroidered with gold. His dark gray beard was braided with mithril rings. A large gold and black crown sat lopsided on his head.

"Oh…Thorin," he muttered, wringing his hands and looking around madly at the piles surrounding him. Thorin felt a chill run up his spine. Thror was much wider than he had remembered. A terrible stench rose from his mouth and clothes. His eyes were glazed and crazed-looking.

"We scavenged a claw from Raug," he said, holding back tears.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Thror asked. His eyes flitted from gems to chests of gold.

"The Fire Drake that dwells in our dungeons, we scavenged a claw from him. It is waiting outside. We are taking it to Dale. It is worth much, and a suitable gift for Girion." Thror looked at Thorin when he mentioned 'worth much'.

"If it is worth much, bring it here! I will not give prize to those Men!" Thorin and his father Thrain fought constantly with the King of Erebor over giving gold away to others and engaging in trade once more. Thror was on the brink of madness. Thorin whipped around and climbed the stairs again, his grandfather leaving no farewell for him. Thorin punched the wall in deep anger. After regaining composure, he exited the room.

"Take it to Dale. I will join you," Thorin commanded the Dwarves guarding the claw.

…

The small train of Dwarves approached the city's gate. They were led inside by armed guards. Thorin did not like the company of Men, for they towered over him and his people. Merchants and citizens hopped to the side of the cobblestone street as the group marched up the hill. Eventually, they came to a great house. Two guards stood in front of the doors. They, in unison, reached for the handles and pulled open both doors.

At the back of the tall ceilinged room, against the beige walls, was a modest throne. Upon it, in casual garb, sat Girion, Lord of Dale. The sleeves were rolled back on his black tunic and black leather boots sat on the floor. His long, black hair rested on his shoulders. He was talking quietly with an advisor. Thorin approached and kneeled, undoing the clasp on his red cape and handing it to a guard.

"Ah! The Heir of Durin! What a surprise!" Girion laughed and rose from his throne to welcome his friend. Girion had a relatively long black beard that went down to the center of his chest. He kneeled before Thorin and rose again.

"We have brought you a gift," Thorin said quietly. The guards carried up the dragon claw. Girion picked it up and tipped forward, almost surprised at its weight. It was very long, and came near to being as tall as Girion himself. Thorin grinned smugly, expecting a gift in return and a look of joy on the Man's face. But Girion did not look happy. He glared at Thorin in concern.

"Where, in Dale's name, did you find this?" he asked shocked. Thorin told Girion about Raug, and his attempts to tame him.

"Rid yourself of that beast! Free him back to the wild! Do you not know what I have seen?" he yelled at the pale Dwarf prince. Girion threw the claw to the floor. "There is another Fire Drake," he whispered into Thorin's face.

"That cannot be. My kin wiped out their kind two hundred years ago," Thorin said with an arrogant air of confidence.

"You are blind to the world, Master Dwarf! I saw a Dragon in the North not four days past. He was of enormous size, his scales golden-red! Your king needs to empty his stockpile of gold and riches! Dragons desire nothing more than that. The day will come, when Erebor and Dale fall, but I will give my life if necessary. Heed my warning and go. The dark days are coming. A new age will begin. The world is changing, Thorin. You must be careful," he warned and backed away to his throne. Thorin turned his nose up at the Lord of Dale and whipped around, leaving the claw on the ground. The Dwarf guards followed him out of the city.

…

Raug stirred at the noise. Thorin had not entered the dungeon since he removed a claw. Raug had spent much of his time sleeping in the dark. Every now and then, a Dwarf would slide a steak underneath the gate for him to eat. Raug was very skinny for a Fire Drake, and his ribs could be seen under his scales.

He continued to sleep until he heard screaming. The clinking of the pickaxes finally stopped, and he heard Dwarves running down a hallway near the dungeon. Raug's amber eyes slightly lit the pitch black darkness. The ground shook for a moment, rattling the chains binding Raug to the walls. Something was coming. Raug tore as hard as he could at the chains on his wings. With a loud clank, the rusty shackles snapped, along with the one around his neck. Raug whipped his tail repeatedly against the wall, shaking the surrounding area. Soon, he was free, for the first time in nearly thirty-five years. Raug used what strength he had to break the gate. He was extremely weak. Eventually, however, the gate was torn apart and Raug stomped out into the light. The Dwarves obviously did not want him to escape. He walked into a big room. Layers and layers of Mithril bars covered the gate into the great Dwarvish city. Raug tried to burn the bars. They bent and melted slightly, but they were too strong. He was trapped.

Raug looked about in panic. Then, he saw it above him. There was a small tunnel that lead to what appeared to be the sky above. From looking around, Raug gathered that this was once a forge room. Raug flapped his wings and attempted to fly up the old chimney. He was much bigger than it, and his claws tore away stones and rocks that fell to the floor below. He clawed his way up for a very long time, when eventually he reached the top. The daylight hurt his eyes. He was soothed, however, by the sweet, fresh air and the cool breeze upon his back. After his eyes adjusted, he realized that he was on top of a massive mountain. Icy snow covered the tip of the peak. Raug looked forward and saw the Withered Heath in the distance.

"Home," he said gladly. But, when he turned around, he saw another sight. Great, black plumes of smoke rose from what appeared to be a ruined city in the valley below. Smoke even rose from the gate of the mountain. Thorin had told Raug about Erebor and its treasures many times. He longed to see the great room of treasure. Somehow, Raug thought that everything seemed too quiet. He wondered if an army had raided the two cities. Raug spread his wings and glided down the face of the peak. He reached the bottom and looked around.

The ground was black with ash. Dead and burned bodies lay everywhere. Trees were nothing more than black sticks pinned in the ground. Raug walked inside of Erebor. Walls were crumbled and pillars cracked. There were dead bodies piled up against the walls. The entire kingdom was abandoned. Suddenly, an idea occurred to Raug. If he found the treasure hoard, he could make his home here. He grinned evilly and marched down the hallway.

A huge hole was torn in the stone wall. There was more gold in the room than Raug had ever seen. He climbed inside. Something was not right. He carefully walked over the gold, in a spot that seemed particularly lumpy. Raug froze in terror as he began sinking into the gold. A huge head emerged. Amber eyes lit the darkness before him. Small coins tumbled off of the golden-red scaled head.

"Father?" Raug hissed in terror. The Fire Drake before him winced and tumbled backwards into the gold, slithering between the coins, continually watching the smaller Fire Drake that had awoken him.


	4. Enslaved

T.A. 2770

Raug was still shorter than Smaug. He looked up into his fiery eyes.

"You were dead," Smaug said deeply and slowly, slithering to the other side of his son and examining him. He noticed the scar on his face. Raug continued to stare forward as his father slowly lowered his head and took a deep sniff from the wound. "Mithril," he growled and raised his head.

"I was tortured. By Thorin. The young prince," Raug hissed. Smaug let out a low grumble and slid through the gold.

"The Dwarves are ruined. I fulfilled my goal," Smaug said as he grabbed one of the great pillars holding the ceiling up. His tail whipped back and forth in anger, sending coins flying everywhere in the dim cavern.

"You do not understand, father. They will return. They are stubborn as-."

"And so am I!" Smaug roared as he turned around and bared his teeth in his son's face. "I avenged our race! If they are to return, so be it! It will be yet another mistake on their part!" Smaug backed up. "By Morgoth's crown, I will not let the Dwarves reclaim Erebor!"

Suddenly, Raug's eyes became glazed. At hearing the name of the ancient enemy, Raug felt his consciousness fall away. It was as if something, or someone, was pushing his mind out of the way. He fell to his feet and drifted into a restless sleep. But Raug's body lifted itself back off of its feet. Smaug sat in confusion.

Raug's eyes were much brighter, as if they were burning. They turned a deep red-orange. His pupil became a perfect, cat-like slit. It was deep, and dark, void of any light. Raug walked around the treasure trove, sniffing rapidly and grunting. He began to mumble in an unknown language to Smaug.

"_Ash…nazg,_" he growled loudly. His voice was not his own. It had a much deeper and darker tone. Raug began frantically digging through the pile, opening chests and pouring out their contents.

A realization came to Smaug. Yet he did nothing. There was a slight tug at the back of his mind. Some memory that had been long forgotten. Smaug slipped back into the shadows. He could not help his son now.

T.A. 2742

The massive wagon traveled in the direction of the forest. It could barely hold the weight of its cargo. Ten of the Orcs tugged on long, thick ropes. The party moved very slowly over the plains.

"This beast will surely kill us!" the dark-skinned Orc talked to his leader as they walked behind the train.

The leader was covered in silver armor. Chain mail sleeves covered his arms and a heavy silver breastplate covered that. He wore a giant helmet, with a warg carved into the crown. The helmet covered all but his eyes. He pulled off his metal glove and shoved his large, gray hand under the Orc's throat.

"We do what the Master says," he said as he threw the Orc to the ground and slipped the glove back over his fingers. The Orc's small face and rabbit-like teeth contorted into a nasty wince.

"Ulogazurm! Get up!" the giant Orc screamed over his back. The short, wobbling Orc lifted himself to his feet and ran to catch up to the wagon.

When the party had reached the northern border of the forest, they turned west, then south again, avoiding the trees and rugged path of Mirkwood.

…

As the party came to the gate at near the south of the forest, it began to spit rain. Huge, dark clouds had formed over the southern part of the forest.

"Keep on the path!" the giant Orc yelled to the laborers. The once green and lush forest was slowly becoming tangled with weeds and vines. Leaves and trees were starting to rot. The constant, spitting rain clinked on the heavy armor of the captain.

…

Night was just falling on the forest. The party continued to trudge over the rugged, unused path. Deeper and deeper they went into the trees. After some time, they came to a large hill, the only one nearby. The trees were now blackened and the leaves were crunchy and stale.

"We're here!" Ulogazurm yelled to the laborers. They continued toward the hill. At the base of the hill was a large entrance of stone. It seemed to be part of an abandoned fortress or dungeon. The party halted and Ulogazurm walked up to the load. He untied the ropes attached to the front of the wagon and tied them to different parts of the cargo. The laborers grabbed the ropes and remained where they were. Ulogazurm waddled to the entrance and walked inside. Two more Orcs came out. They walked in unison to the back of the wagon and stood there, holding spears at the ready in protection. Ulogazurm screeched and the laborers began to pull the massive thing inside the fortress.

Sweat was pouring off of their faces when they finally reached the great room. Much of the ceiling had fallen away. A very wide stone bridge stretched into the darkness. The bridge ended after a long way and became a sort of throne room. Two torches lit the room dimly. The laborers untied their ropes and walked back down the bridge as the heavily armored Orc walked towards the ruined stone throne. When he reached it, two guards of the same armor came out from small gates next to it. They pulled off his breastplate, shin guards, boots, and chain mail. Finally, they pulled off his helmet. The Orc now only wore a simple brown tunic and leather boots. The silver helmet was lifted slowly off of his head.

The Orc had deep, golden eyes. His gray skin blended in with the stonework of the fortress. Brown vines climbed the walls and ate through the rock. The Orc had no nose, and his face was cut away just above the jawline. Dark red scar tissue was stretched out where his face was so strangely deformed. His hands were massive, and his muscles were the greatest of any Orc in Dol Guldur. He fell to his knees and faced the throne.

"Master?" his gravelly voice asked the chair of rock. The guards returned to their posts in the darkness.

"Rise, Sharbator" a deep, bone-chilling voice whispered. The great Orc brought himself back to his feet and rested his arms at his side.

Upon the throne, a body began to take shape out of a black cloud of void. From feet to hair, the specter filled his spot on the throne. His body was outlined in a strange silver light, like a star through morning mist. He was clothed in complete black and silver, great shiny shoulder pads rested on either side of his neck. His face was very fair. He had high, prominent cheekbones and smooth, soft lips. His eyebrows were black as well as his long hair, which floated and rippled slowly behind his head and over his shoulders as if he was without gravity. His skin was very pale, and long white fingers gripped the front of the throne's armrests. But, contrasting from everything else about the spirit, his eyes were bright, shining orange and red. The iris in his eyes flickered and changed colors as flames in a fire. Even the barbaric, ugly Orc was chilled at his presence.

"I bring you a gift. For your War," Sharbator said quietly, pointing to the giant, dark lump across the bridge. The spirit stood up, and looking forward, glided quickly over the stone bridge, without even moving his feet.

"Awaken," the spirit said over the great beast. Immediately, the Dragon's eyes shot open. He was still bound at the feet and wings. He attempted to burn the fearsome sight before him. "Silence!" the spirit screamed in a blood-curdling yell. The Dragon fell back to his original position. The spirit was barely taller than the beast's snout, yet he could control it however he wished. "Tell me your name." The Dragon heard the strange spirit speaking inside of his head now, yet his mouth did not move. "I am Sauron the Great, Servant of Morgoth," it whispered quietly.

"I am Raug…Son of Smaug," the Dragon told Sauron. Sauron turned to his left.

"Where did you come upon this beast?" Sauron asked Sharbator.

"We were on our way back from Mount Gundabad. We found a Dwarvish mine in the Grey Mountains. It was asleep in the base of the mine. There was a pile of bones next to his body," he told his master.

"Were you bred in the Withered Heath?" Sauron stroked Raug's great snout. His golden-red scales shimmered in the dim light.

"I was," Raug said carefully.

"Are there others?" Sauron asked, his burning eyes staring into Raug's very being.

"We were murdered by a Dwarf army. My father left me. I have no idea if he is still alive," Raug muttered. Sauron closed his eyes and stroked Raug's snout once more.

"Do not fear me. I am your friend," Sauron said softly. "_Snaga_," he whispered in his ear. Suddenly, Raug lost all ill feeling and suspicion. He contorted in pain. The wound of the Black Arrow was going to kill him. It still had not healed. Sauron placed his hand over the wound and spoke strange, dark words. The wound was instantly healed and all pain vanished. A small hole still remained, but the infection and sickness had disappeared.

The great Orc remained at his master's side, not moving or speaking. Sauron turned to him and began speaking. He looked at Raug out of the corner of his eye and smirked. The tiny, echoing whisper rang through his head once more.

"The East will rise once more. Mordor will conquer this earth. You will serve me, as your kind once served Morgoth. Come," Sauron spoke to Raug. Raug had heard stories of the first Dragons. Suddenly, Raug saw an image of his father flash in his mind. "Raug and Smaug. We will build an army. The Orcs are coming down from the north. War will come," his voice faded away. Raug shook his great head and looked at the specter and the Orc. "Your father is coming. I will return soon," Sauron said as he was bathed in thick, inky shadow. The vision disappeared.

"My Master says that you must rest. There is a cave," Sharbator looked the Dragon in the eye and pointed to the dark, foreboding area under the bridge. Raug took his first steps in almost two-hundred years, shaking the bridge and causing pebbles to fall from the ruined walls. His amber eyes shot through the darkness of the pit as he flapped his wings and landed in a large, cool grotto below the bridge. Raug was anxious, yet also nervous to see his father. Before long, he fell into a deep sleep.

…

Raug awoke in what he thought to be the middle of the night. He looked up and realized that a very faint light touched the dark clouds spinning overhead. They gave a feeling of constant dusk. A low horn blast pierced the morning air. Raug shifted his weight and stood up. He was large enough to peek over the bridge, even though the pit was very deep for an Orc.

A line of about one hundred Orcs marched through the entrance and over the long bridge. Several Orcs looked in surprise at the giant, scaled head that stood to their left. The scent of their kind filled the already foul air. Raug could tell that these were Gundabadians. Rarely, Gundabad Orcs would travel over the ridge near the Withered Heath, and Raug had smelled their kind before. They marched in unison, boots and armor clanking and crashing on stone. A stream of about fifty walked over the bridge to the throne. A small gate was raised behind it. The Orcs marched single file inside.

Sharbator wore his full armor, his helmet covering his torn-up face. An Orc carrying a black flag stopped before Sharbator and let the others pass him.

"Is Azog with you?" Sharbator asked the flag-bearer. They seemed to know each other well.

"He is still young. Give him time," the Orc told the taller one before him.

"The Master needs him for the War. He would be a formidable leader," Sharbator growled at him.

"Give him time. He will soon be ready," the Orc repeated, reentering the march towards the end of the line. Sharbator followed the line inside the gate. With a loud metallic crash, the gate fell, and the loud clanking echoed away.

A light rain began to fall from the gray clouds above. Raug looked up at the sky and looked in amazement at the ruined towers and bridges that stretched far above his head. Raug climbed upon the stone bridge and walked slowly about. He was used to being lonely, but he had a deep longing for company. Raug thought about Smaug.

A loud roar shot through the air, bouncing off of the walls. Raug looked up into the air and saw a huge Dragon hovering above, slowly flapping its great wings as it descended to the bridge. Smaug landed right in front of his son Raug. Raug immediately nuzzled his snout against his father's neck and closed his eyes. A deep rumble of happiness echoed from his throat. Smaug did the same.

"Raug…I am deeply sorry for leaving you. I…I was too afraid to help you," Smaug said, pulling away.

"Do not worry, father. I had been through a lot before I woke up here, but I knew that you were still alive," Raug said quietly. He looked almost identical to his father, and was much larger than the last time Smaug had seen him.

"Why are we summoned here?" Smaug asked, looking around at the ancient architecture. At the exact moment the words had left his tongue, a large cloud of black shadow emerged from a wall. It hovered over the two Dragons for a moment.

"Yes. Good," a chilling and sharp whisper radiated from the blackness. "Smaug, I am Sauron the Great. Servant of Morgoth. I am glad that you have arrived," the voice trailed off as the shadow floated onto the bridge in between the Fire Drakes.

"And why would I have any business with you?" Smaug looked down his snout unfavorably at the cloud, but an air of apprehension and uneasiness rose from his body.

"I am forming armies. Long has the Watchful Peace lasted. Too long. I have been summoning Morgoth's old servants. Orcs, Goblins, Spiders, and my beautiful Flames of the North," he cooed at the Dragons. Now that he had mentioned it, Raug knew that it was a Spider he had seen crawling in the darkness the night before. "Not to mention the Nine Kings," Sauron whispered. As if they were summoned, silvery-white specters drifted through the walls. Their eyes were missing, and their faces were shrunken and wrinkled. They wore sharp, jagged crowns upon their heads. Sauron hissed at them, and they faded away slowly.

Both Smaug and Raug took in the knowledge that they had heard.

"And why are you forming an army?" Smaug asked skeptically.

"My Master's goal was to destroy Arda and its entire people. Therefore, he created everything that I am gathering here. If I could unite all of these races under my command, the world that we know will fall," Sauron said quietly. "My Orcs are made for fighting. But for you, as well as the Nazgûl, I have another task in mind," Sauron let out a deep cackle. "More than a thousand years ago, I crafted the One Ring of Power in Mordor. You know this," the shadow whispered to Smaug directly. "I was defeated in battle by Isildur. He took the Ring from me. And I know that he is still alive with it somewhere," Sauron hissed in rage.

"Isildur was killed on the Anduin long ago. The Ring has been lost ever since," Smaug said to Sauron, surprised at his lack of knowledge. The shadow rapidly grew bright orange veins and shook mightily. Both Fire Drakes backed away slowly. The shadow calmed and returned to its solid black state.

"Your race was created to serve me and my Master. You will search and raid every treasure horde in Middle-earth until you find the One Ring. It is essential to my goal," Sauron once more floated into the air.

"Why should we serve you? We have nothing to do with your machinations and schemes," Raug burst out in a low, angered voice.

"_Snaga!_" Sauron shrieked. Both Raug and Smaug fell upon their bellies in pain. "_You serve me!_" Sauron stretched into an orange, glowing, fiery eye. It flickered in the dim light of Dol Guldur. A single, solid black slit went from the top to the bottom. Flashes of yellow fire and lighting made it painful to look upon. The Dragons closed their eyes and bared their teeth. Sauron's voice became much deeper and darker. "_Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul. You will tell no one of my plans. You will search for the Ring. You will fulfill my plans." _ Sauron the Deceiver, however, decided to complicate the matter. "_Raug, you have not seen your father since he left you. Fly to Erebor. If I should call on you, you will answer. Smaug, you will plunder every Dwarf mine and dungeon until you find the Ring. You will forget that any of this happened until I decide that it is time for you to remember. Go now."_ Eyes still closed, the two Fire Drakes flapped their wings and glided away in opposite directions. Sauron, still in the form of the Eye, let out a horrendous shriek. He spoke in the minds of the Orcs. The Nazgûl were summoned before the Eye. Sauron watched in gladness as Orcs brought black cloaks and metal claws into the throne room. The armored Orcs pulled the great, black cloaks over the spirits before them. The metal claws were now slipped on their hands. Now, the spirits faded away, yet the cloaks still moved. Where they had once had pale and shrunken faces, now there was nothing, only darkness.

"_My Nazgûl,_" Sauron's deep voice whispered. "_Seek out the One Ring and bring it back to me. You will not stop until you have found it._" He paused, and the great Eye looked back and forth. "_Search the shores of the Anduin._ _And you, Angmar." _ Eight of the Ringwraiths stepped back, leaving one looking up at the Eye. He fell to his knees before Sauron. "_Go to Minas Morgul. Some of my Orcs will await you there._ _And take this._" Angmar rose from his knees and looked at his metallic claws. A blade began to appear out of shadow and silver in his hand. He gripped his claws around it and held it into the air, letting out and ear-splitting shriek. A whirlwind of fire spun around the short blade, stretching into the air. He stepped back and joined the line of black-clothed wraiths. "_Horses are tethered near the front gate. Find the One Ring,_" Sauron whispered in thick, deep Black Speech. He began chanting the Black Speech of Mordor as the hunched-over Nazgûl ran silently over the bridge. He became a regular shadow once more, and floated to his throne, where he vanished. The Nazgûl galloped loudly west on their dark horses. A grim rumble of distant thunder rolled through Mirkwood.

Raug crashed into the trees before the gates of Erebor. He came out of the trance and blinked his eyes, a soft whisper falling away from his ears. He felt tight ropes being wrapped around his body. Out of fatigue and weakness, he became unconscious. When he awoke, he was lying on his stomach in a cold dungeon, pickaxes clinking against the walls.

T.A. 2770

Suddenly, Smaug remembered everything that had happened at Dol Guldur. He looked around the treasure pile. He felt a pull in his chest to dig through the pile. Raug was still furiously shuffling through gold and muttering. Smaug tried to fight Sauron.

"I do _not _want this!" Smaug yelled, spreading his wings.

"_Snaga! You serve me!_"a shrill whisper shot through his head. Smaug shook his head and clutched a nearby pillar with his claws as he was slowly dragged across the endless piles of treasure.

"Raug! Fight it! Fight him!" he growled. Raug turned and looked at his father. He shook his head rapidly.

"Father! What is happening?" he asked. Smaug settled down. He felt that the Enemy had left his mind. Smaug's chest heaved up and down for many moments.

"Leave, Raug. Fly. Do not return. Sauron is going to hunt you. Save yourself," Smaug said quietly. Raug attempted to interject. "Do as I say!" Smaug screamed. Raug turned and slowly stomped out of the room. "I love you, Raug," he said sadly. Raug turned with teary eyes and flew out of the mountain.


	5. The Darkness Spreads

_Black Speech is in italics_

T.A. 2793

Raug spent much of his time hunting for food. The areas to the north were becoming incredibly dangerous, for the war between the Dwarves and the Orcs had just begun. Raug chose to stay neutral in the conflict, but that would not last for long.

…

Raug smelled the scouts before he heard or saw them. It was a familiar, strong musky smell that filled the air. He pulled his head from the pile of gold coins and snorted a few out of his nostrils. Raug had acquired a nice sized cave on the border of the Northern Waste. On the other side of the mountains was Angmar. Gundabad warg scouts frequented the hills and mountains, and many passed down to the Ettenmoors. None knew that a Fire Drake of old sat close to their doorstep. That is, until they needed him.

The trees rustled eerily. Raug sniffed again. These were definitely Gundabadians. Suddenly, three wargs burst out of the bushes. Two stayed behind, while one rode slowly up to the great snout.

He wore a simple, brown tunic and boots. He carried a large javelin. Feathers and bones were tied crudely to the tip. His face had a dark green tint and bright green eyes watched from his head. His faced was very well formed for an Orc. Long black hair was tied behind his head and fell between his shoulders.

"We have come to strike a deal," he spoke quietly, his brown warg deeply growling. Raug's massive black claws grabbed the side of the entrance.

"What dealings would I have with Orcs?" his deep, reptilian voice asked.

"Dwarves," the Orc snarled and grinned. "We heard that you've had dealings with their kind before, eh?" he chuckled. Raug was silent for a long time. Something pulled him to the Orcs. A deep, dark desire. He felt a strange connection to them.

"What do you need?" he asked carefully. The Orc laughed and his guards joined in.

…

Raug flew to where the Orc party had instructed him to go. He glided over Mount Gundabad and to a small valley in between several smaller mountains. At the base of the valley was a small stream. This was the beginning of the Anduin. Raug landed in the valley. There were tents everywhere. He was in an Orc army camp.

Sounds of blacksmiths hammering swords and iron echoed throughout the camp. Raug was massive, and looked upon all of the tents as one looks at ants on a log. Then, he heard a familiar voice at his feet. He looked down and saw the Orc that led him here.

"Where is your leader? I wish to speak with him," Raug asked.

"Our leader is not here at the moment. He went with some scout to that fortress. What is it called?" he paused and looked at the ground. "Ah! Dol Guldur!" Raug heard whispers in the back of his mind and his spine was turned to ice.

"Oh…" Raug muttered. The Orc's eyes showed understanding. He nodded slightly.

Suddenly, a loud horn rang out. Someone yelled loudly in Black Speech. The Orc nodded a farewell to Raug and ran back into the camp. Raug could see small black shapes moving quickly down the mountain adjacent to the camp.

The Orc weaved between soldiers and came to a clearing in the center of the camp. Brown canvas rags were posted on sticks to keep out the sun. The riders rode into the circle. The Orc spread his arms and laughed as a warg approached.

"What news from Moria?" he asked. A great, black-skinned Orc wearing a helmet and breastplate sat upon the warg. He pulled off his helmet to reveal his face, bald head, and pointy ears.

"More soldiers are coming. Many are down in Mirkwood right now," he said, sheathing his massive blade. "Take this to be sharpened." He turned to another Orc. There were about ten in the group. "Here is the contract," the black Orc handed the brown paper to the green-skinned one on the ground.

"Signed?" he asked hopefully. The Orc nodded as he hopped off of the warg and made his way into the camp. The green-skinned Orc carried the contract, eagerly reading and muttering to himself.

Meanwhile, Raug still sat behind the camp, watching the Orcs walk back and forth. The constant hammering of the blacksmith caused Raug to freeze and wince. It reminded him of the torturous pickaxes in Erebor. After much waiting, the green-skinned Orc approached the Fire Drake.

"The name is Farmar," he looked up and told Raug. "But most teasingly call me Calen."

"Elvish," Raug grumbled and bent closer to the ground. Calen rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Don't get me started!" he said. Raug chuckled deeply.

"Anyway, I brought you here for the little game we and the Dwarves are playing," he spat the enemy's name. "We could use a big one like you." Raug looked amused. "This camp is moving out at dawn to a Dwarf camp up the hill. The smithies made an armor suit for you already. This battle is gonna be huge."

Calen had very broad shoulders. His nose was slightly pointy along with his green-toned ears. His hair was out of its tail now, and hung at his shoulders. A small, dark scar went straight down his right cheek. He wore black, metal bands on both wrists. His tunic had no sleeves, and thinner arms were crossed over his chest. A huge blade rested in its scabbard on his leather belt. Raug thought that he looked more Man-like than Orcish.

"Tell me, who were your parents?" Raug asked delicately. Emerald eyes shot to the amber ones above.

"I don't talk about that," Calen said bluntly and snarled. His gaze became fixed on the ground. Raug turned his head sideways and examined him. He noticed that his face was sculpted handsomely and human-like. He did not quite look like an Orc except for his ears, skin, and dress. A necklace of warg fangs hung around his neck.

Calen seemed very distracted. He was staring off into space. Raug opened his mouth to speak, but he saw a huge Orc run out of the camp and up to them. He jumped at the sight of Raug. Calen chuckled as he turned around.

"Did he scare y-," Calen laughed.

"The Dwarves! They're marching down the mountain!" he screamed hysterically. Calen's face immediately lost all expression.

"Get my armor. Now!" he yelled as the Orc ran back into the camp. "Ay!" The Orc turned around. "Bring his too! Quickly now!" Calen gestured to the Fire Drake behind him. Raug could see a massive line of silver slinking down a distant mountain towards the camp.

"Listen…" Calen turned to Raug and gestured upward.

"Raug."

"Listen, Raug. These Dwarves are feisty. They have advanced weapons. Including black arrows. Have you heard of them?" Calen asked. Raug squinted and bared his teeth. A low rumble echoed from his throat. He put a claw near the hole in his chest. Calen's jaw dropped. He walked forward and stretched as tall as he could to reach it and examine it.

"How are you still alive?" he asked, shocked. He stepped back and gestured for Raug to lean closer.

"The leaders, they want you for slavery. You could heat the forges, you're a formidable foe. After this battle, they are going to chain you up. I'm not going to let them. It'll probably be the last thing I do. I know, Raug. You just want to be free. You don't have a 'side'. I'm gonna do everything I can to help you," he whispered in his ear. The Orc returned, panting and sweating. He dragged a cart with huge, silver plates and smaller Orc armor.

"Thank you," Calen said and the Orc ran back to the camp.

…

Calen tightened the last strap of armor on Raug's back.

"You're good now. Get ready for battle," Calen said as he leapt off of Raug's scaly back. Raug wore a sort of helmet that covered all but his mouth and eyes. There were three, sharp metal horns at the tip of the snout. His tail armor was covered in spikes. A plate of armor covered his stomach and was tied with leather straps to one on his back. The armored Orcs were already forming a huge march. Raug stomped in the back as they exited the camp. Dark clouds had formed over their heads and it began to rain steadily. Calen ran into the front of the line somewhere and Raug could not tell who was who. There were probably about five hundred soldiers marching and one hundred on wargs. The Dwarf army had halted at the base of the distant mountain. Raug was struck with an icy blade as he saw them form two front lines of archers. The force seemed smaller than the one that Raug had seen over the trees earlier. Finally, the Orc army halted on a plain. It was thick with dirt and boulders, but made good fighting ground.

Without warning, the Orc army charged at the Dwarves. Raug had to run quickly to keep up. The ground shook beneath his weight. Their swords were drawn and the wargs galloped ahead of the army. Suddenly, the arrows were released. Orcs were hit left and right and were trampled under the boots of others. The massive black arrows shattered breastplates and severed arteries. Black liquid sprayed everywhere in the air. One hit Raug in the neck but fell off with his stomping. The warg riders yelled commands to the troops.

"Get the Drake in the front!" a random voice yelled. Raug looked down at him in disgust. A black arrow whizzed through the air and impacted with his arm, tearing it off right from the bone. He screamed and fell to his knees, left to die. Raug pitied him. He looked back but only saw a distant pool of black blood. Those who were injured were trampled under the feet of others, if not Raug himself.

Finally, the archers ran out of arrows. The army was relieved and charged faster to kill the Dwarves before them. That was when the rest of the army flew out of the trees and slaughtered the Orcs. The short soldiers ambushed the taller ones with spears and javelins and war cries. Raug burned a large section of their forces. The Orcs were strong, but they had acted too quickly. The army broke into random groups, and those who were abandoned were killed quickly. The archers began running to the massacre with knives.

In all of the confusion, Raug realized that his armor was being cut off. A smaller Orc was whittling away at his straps. When all of the armor was off of his body, the Orc screamed.

"Fly!" he yelled. Raug flapped his wings and burned more Dwarves as they killed the only remaining Orcs. Raug was overcome with fear. The Orc upon him reached for others below. He grabbed one and pulled him up onto the scaly body. A javelin penetrated his back. The Orc cried out in fear and dropped him.

"Kill the beast!" a Dwarf yelled. Javelins bounced off of Raug's natural armor as he tried to get into the air. Several Dwarves jumped onto his wings, but the Orc cut them down as they came. The last living Orc reached his armored hand. The Orc dove for it and missed as Raug began to gain altitude. The Orc below screamed terribly, and chills went down Raug's spine.

"Fly down and get him!" the Orc upon his back cried. Raug continued to fly away. If they went back, they would both die. The Orc pulled off his helmet and sat upon the beast's back. He tossed it into the air. The Dwarves mercilessly stabbed his friend. A final scream echoed above the trees, and was gone.

A small tear ran down the green Orc's cheek. His black hair fluttered in the wind. Raug continued his course to Mount Gundabad. It was not far.

…

The Dragon flapped his wings quickly and touched his feet to the grassy hill. The twilight cast a blue and pink glow that faded away to bright stars. A cool breeze rippled the yellow and green grass across the hills. Raug reached his claws up and grabbed the body on his back. He rested it against a boulder. Calen was awake, but he did not speak. He pulled off his armor and was back in his simple tunic. Raug hunched over, letting his body get warm. He watched Calen blink slowly and look around. Mount Gundabad loomed a little bit into the distance. There was snow on its peak. Raug jumped slightly when Calen got up from his seat and kicked his breastplate over the side of the hill. He screamed loudly and stood with his back to the Dragon, watching the last lights fall into the horizon. Calen kneeled on one knee and rested his elbow on the other.

A small, black plume of smoke rose to the east.

"I knew they would burn the camp," Calen said quietly, almost to himself. He picked strands of grass and flicked them away. "Our leader is strong. His revenge will come." Raug closed his eyes. "You asked about my parents," Calen said, his voice closer to Raug than before. Raug's eyelid shot open.

Calen had been crying. There were clean streaks through the dirt on his face.

"My father was an Orc. My mother was an Elf," he said quietly. Raug lifted his head from the ground and turned it sideways, looking down at him like a bird.

"That is very…odd," Raug said gently. Calen nodded.

"Somehow, they fell in love. My father met her in the wild. He brought her in secret to Gundabad, and she was killed after I was born," Calen's voice cracked as he told the story. "My father went mad and killed himself soon after." Raug did not know what to say.

"I'm sorry," he said carefully. Calen smiled slightly.

"My mother only left me one gift," he said a bit more cheerfully. "I inherited her long life." Raug was shocked. He turned and lowered his head to Calen's level.

"How old are you?" Raug asked.

"One hundred and nine," Calen said. "I am still very young." Raug grumbled in delight. Calen sat down on the grass and began to ask Raug about his past life. Raug told him everything, about Thorin, Smaug, Lagra, and all that had come to pass since the day his family was killed. They talked about their contempt for the Dwarves until the moon rose over a distant hill. It was a full moon.

…

Calen watched the moonlight twinkle the Mithril specks in Raug's scar. The Orc was wrapped in a small fur blanket that he had brought with him. It was very peaceful at night on the northern borders of Rhovanion. The great Anduin snaked through valleys to the south. Calen looked up to the bright stars. There was not a cloud in the sky.

Suddenly, he heard thumping. It sounded far off but gradually came closer. He looked to Raug, who was curled up and fast asleep. Calen picked up a rock and threw it at his side. Raug opened one of his eyes.

"Raug, there is something coming," Calen whispered. Raug did not seem to care and went back to sleep. Calen crouched against the boulder. The thumping stopped, but he could hear panting at the bottom of the hill. He slowly pulled a dagger out of his blanket. He watched Raug's body rhythmically moving up and down.

Then, he realized that the panting stopped.

Calen could feel its presence on top of the boulder. He pulled himself under the blanket and held his dagger tightly. His hands were sweating. Suddenly, a huge piece of metal fell onto his head. He whipped the blanket off and saw his helmet laying there, the one that he had thrown off of Raug. He looked up and began laughing. A huge warg jumped off of the boulder and landed next to him. It began to lick Calen's face as he laughed with glee. Raug sat up and looked at the warg below him.

"Who is this?" Raug asked, leaning closer to the warg. It had short, dark brown fur. Raug touched it with his claw. It immediately turned around and started snapping at his claws.

"His name is Furtun. He must have escaped the camp. I've raised him since he was a pup," Calen told the Dragon. Raug pushed it away from his leg with his wing.

"I need you to take me to Gundabad. There's something I must attend to," Calen said. Raug nodded and seemed indifferent, but he eyed the Orc suspiciously. "There is an old friend there that I need to speak to. About the war." Raug grumbled and curled up once more.

Soon after, the group was asleep once more.

…

Raug flew swiftly towards the great peak. Below him, a warg thundered over the hills. Furtun was extremely fast. The sun had barely risen, stretching its orange arms into the sky. Although Raug had begun to trust his new companion, he was suspicious of his intentions at Gundabad. Raug had thought that they would go separate ways. He would try to be careful.

Once the sun had fully risen over the horizon, they reached the front gate. It was very similar to Erebor, Raug thought. A great stone gateway led into the mountain. Runes were carved decoratively into patterns and shapes. The snow was far above, near the peak, but it would spread to the ground when winter came. Raug stayed behind a stone wall, and out of sight of the many guards marching back and forth on the door. Calen pulled a rope out of a small sack to tie up Furtun, but he thought better of it.

"Stay here. If you see a flame fly from the wall, I need you to leave," Calen whispered into the Dragon's ear.

"What exactly are you doing?" Raug asked the Orc. Calen looked into Raug's eyes.

"Nothing," Calen said, and hopped upon his warg. Before Raug could stop him, he galloped up the dark, stony hill and up to the gate. Raug stayed where he was and watched. Calen talked with a guard. They seemed to be whispering to each other. Then, Raug pulled a sack from his belt and handed it to the Orc. The gate was opened and Calen rode inside. With a loud crash, it closed behind him. Raug scowled in suspicion. Something was amiss.

…

Calen tied Furtun to a post inside.

"_Sit_," he told the warg. Immediately, it sank down and rested. Calen looked up.

The city was just as he remembered it. It was in the mountain, much like Erebor, only much older. Giant, stone Dwarves guarded the entrance hall, but their heads were gone and replaced with rusty iron cages filled with bones. Orcish graffiti was etched all over them in Black Speech.

Calen leaned down and examined an etching that appeared to have been there for a while.

'_Dwarf scum_' it read. Calen chuckled and raised himself back to his feet. As he walked down the dark hallway, a murmur gradually began to rise into a huge ceilinged cavern. Bridges connected pillars and balconies. Stairs led to huge rooms and abandoned mines. All of the architecture was clearly Dwarvish, but crude wooden paths and huts were scattered all over the walls and walk ways like bats on a cave wall. Calen's breath was taken away at the sight of the massive Orcish colony.

"Such a shame…" Calen whispered. Orcs wandered everywhere, and their voices echoed throughout the cave. Calen looked over the bridge and saw that the tiny lights delved down into a deep black pit below. He needed to find the Supreme Commander of the Orcs quickly. His task had to be fulfilled. Calen needed Orcish liquor for a key part of his plan. He looked around at the different Orcs running about. Then, he saw him.

An Orc whose small stature was remarkably similar to Calen's was sitting in a chair and writing in his la with a cheap quill. A large bottle was strapped to his leg. Calen targeted his prey and made his way through the crowds. Gundabad was an extremely dim place, and torches were seldom on the walls.

Before he made his move, Calen thought about what he was about to do. He nervously twisted one of the metal bands on his arms. If he deserted his task, he would be killed. With tears in his eyes, Calen pulled the dagger from inside his tunic. He ran through the crowd and grabbed the young Orc, covering his mouth and dragging him behind a hut. Calen rested the blade on his throat and in a split second, the knife was dripping with black blood and the Orc lying on his face. Calen gulped and held up his bloody hand. He cleaned his hand and he dagger and pulled the bottle from the dead body. He continued walking to the other room, blending in with the bodies around him.

There was usually a supreme Orc that ran the colony in Gundabad. Calen had heard rumors that a previous commander had moved his leadership to Moria. Calen pushed Orcs out of the way and brushed against bodies as he walked over the bridge.

He paused. For a moment, he felt as if someone was watching him. He turned his head slowly to the side and looked out of the corner of his eye. A shadowy figure sat in a chair, watching him from afar. His gaze was repeatedly broken by the crowds waling past. He was not an Orc, that was certain. It was wrapped in a large cloak, and only two, bright blue eyes watched him, unblinking. Calen turned and continued walking, a sweat braking on his brow.

After some walking, Calen reached a door. It was very close to the edge of the abyss, and a guard stood in front. He was wearing full, silver armor and held a spear with its tip in the air. Calen walked up to him.

"_I must speak with him_," Calen said.

"_Leave, filth_," the guard answered. Calen looked around and saw that hardly any Orcs were walking in this area. Then, he grabbed the spear. Calen saw the guard reach for it and stabbed him in his armpit, the only weak spot in his armor. The tip went very deep and he grunted. Calen bit his bottom hip and twisted the spear. The Orc let out his last breath. Calen shoved him and he plummeted into the darkness below.

He reached up and grabbed a huge handle on the door before him. It was extremely heavy, and he pulled as hard as he could. He slipped inside and put his hand behind him, making sure that no one could hear the door close. A short hallway led to a circular room. There were many torches on the walls. A long, dirty and torn rug led up the three small stairs to the circular room. Calen crouched and snuck up the stairs. In the room, there was a large stone chair in the middle. Tables of books and maps and papers were scattered all about the room. An older Orc sat at the throne, flipping through worn parchment and maps, repeatedly marking certain areas with his quill. Calen walked up slowly. The Orc looked up.

His hair was white and stringy, only a few strands hanging down to his upper arms. His face was dark gray, and very wrinkly. His eyes were light brown. He wore a simple brown robe and leather boots.

"_Who are you?_" he asked, jumping at the sight of the young Orc before him.

"_My business does not concern you_," Calen said as he began pacing with his hands behind his back. The Orc dropped his quill in the bottle of ink. A small clink echoed in the room.

"_I am the leader of this colony! Have you no respect for your elders?_" he asked. Calen chuckled.

"_I know who you are. Your lordship will end soon. There are stronger ones rising. Look to Moria. It is prosperous, unlike this smelly cavern_," Calen spat.

"_Azog is strong, but he has dealings with the Necromancer of Dol Guldur. That is somewhere that I do not wish to go_," he said, setting his papers in his lap. Calen stopped and looked at the lord of Gundabad.

"_And why should you neglect our true master?_" Calen asked bluntly.

"_I send aid to Dol Guldur, but if true war is to come then I will not! I will not expose our people to his wrath!_" he said angrily. Calen walked closer to the Orc and laughed. In an instant, his knife was embedded in his chest. The Orc clutched his chest and looked up at Calen.

"_Your mother lives, young Farmar. I expected better of you…_" his voice trailed off as he slumped forward, dead. Calen stepped back. A steady flow of salty tears flooded down his green cheeks and splattered onto the floor. He fell to his knees on the cobblestone. He covered his eyes with his hands and doubled over, weeping loudly. Black, inky blood trickled over the papers in the lap of the corpse. Calen's cries carried through the cool air. Pain became fear. A quiet whisper echoed through his head. Calen began shaking and stood up. His eyes were wide and red. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and pulled the knife out of the Orcs chest.

Calen ran through the crowds once more, until he reached a stone staircase. He ran up, two steps at a time, until he reached the top. The air became much colder. Calen turned to his right and squinted. It was the catwalk above the gate of Gundabad. Calen hesitated.

"I must finish the task," he whispered. Calen pulled the dirty liquor bottle from his leg. A torch rested on the wall. Calen grabbed it. Quickly, he smashed the neck of the bottle on the wall. Calen set the bottle on the ground and pulled a thick, leather glove over his hand. He rested the flame of the torch on top of the drink. Instantly, the liquid set fire. A steady and bright flame rose from the top. Calen dropped the torch and lifted the bottle with his gloved hand.

Calen sprinted over the wall, running past guards. When he reached the middle, he stopped and lifted the flame into the air. A huge cheer rang out, catching the attention of the guards. Calen threw the bottle off of the wall, letting it soar through the air and land in the snow.

A massive army of Dwarves, greater than Raug had ever seen charged the gate.

"Traitor!" Raug roared. He stomped to the gate as quickly as he could. Raug made eye contact with the green-skinned Orc standing exactly at his height. Raug was taller than the entire gate. He bellowed loudly. Calen began to run down the catwalk. Raug clawed and whipped his tail, crushing stone and sending boulders flying into the air. Calen escaped to the inside. Raug tore the giant, Dwarvish gate open and plummeted inside, his body barely fitting in the dark hallway. Orcs screamed and ran for the gate as the Dragon thundered after the small Orc who was running as fast as his legs could carry him. Then, the Dwarves entered. The escaping Orcs were killed instantly. The brutal weapons of the small soldiers were deadly to the unarmed civilians. The Dwarves pushed farther and farther into the cavern. Raug continued after his goal.

Amid all the fighting, a single archer stood upon a staircase. He held a bow which was much too large for him.

"Take the beast down!" a voice yelled over the fighting. The Dwarf nodded and pulled a newly sharp black arrow from his quiver on his back. His long black hair and beard waved slightly. He pulled the arrow back and aimed at the Dragon, still running into the darkness.

"Thorin! Take it down!" the Dwarf yelled once more. The prince took aim.

"Erebor will be avenged," Thorin muttered. The arrow soared through the cave.

Calen tripped and fell on his face. He turned over and looked at Raug. The giant Dragon gathered fire in his chest. Suddenly, he sputtered smoke and a sharp pain hit his back. The arrow went deep. Everything went completely silent. He looked into Calen's eyes and bent over, his massive eyes watching Calen's eyes flutter about in confusion. He held his gloved hand out.

"Why must the world fall into darkness. Why are we slaves to him," Raug asked himself.

Raug saw his vision become clouded. He stumbled about on the cliff. Then, he plummeted into the darkness below. Calen screamed as he lay on the ground. Tears once again fell from his eyes. He curled up on the floor and wept loudly and violently as the army ran past, killing Orcs everywhere.

"Who am I, mother?" Calen whispered as he cried. "Who am I." A hand began to gently stroke his cheek.


	6. The Stone

T.A. 2793

Smaug's eye shot open, his pupil adjusting to the dim light. He felt as if something, some connection to him, had just been broken. It had been twenty-three years since he had seen Raug. A deep and burning hatred for Sauron rose in his chest. Smaug had acquired a much fouler mood over the years away from Raug. Suddenly, the low whisper echoed through his mind. He was extremely tired of talking to Sauron and being under his control. He snorted several coins out of his nose.

"_Raug…is dead_," Sauron told him. Smaug's heart stopped.

"_What? No!_" Smaug yelled.

"_He was killed in Mount Gundabad_," Sauron said, sympathizing with Smaug. The Dragon could not see him, but he was smirking demonically as he told the beast the news.

"_Who killed him?_" Smaug asked immediately. Sauron knew his plan was going perfectly.

"_Thorin Oakenshield_," he said. Smaug rose up on his back feet and grabbed a Dwarvish pillar. He wrapped his claws around it and tore with all his might. The pillar cracked and fell from its place in between the ceiling and the gold. He stood, panting angrily. "_Smaug, one day, Thorin will attempt to reclaim this kingdom. You know this. It would be the perfect opportunity to pay your revenge._"

"That nasty, short, putrid brigand!" Smaug roared, the gold tinkling from the massive vibrations. "It is all because of you, Sauron! You tortured us!" Smaug began to scream. Suddenly, Sauron put him into a deep sleep and he fell into the gold. Then, Sauron left his mind.

…

Calen awoke. His head spun for a moment and he felt nauseous. A low torch light flickered on the dark walls. He could hear something popping and bubbling. A constant, obnoxious creaking and a deep rolling sound reverberated off of the wooden walls. He sat up, realizing that his tunic was gone from his body. He looked down and saw a large band of cloth wrapped around his stomach. There was dried blood in one spot.

Calen looked forward at the source of the noise. His heart skipped a beat and he reached for a weapon that was not there. In a low chair sat the hooded figure he had seen earlier. The hood was back, revealing bright, golden hair and a gorgeous face. Her blue eyes were focused on the grinding wheel before her. It rolled in place and orange sparks shot off of the large blade she was holding. Calen realized that it was his sword. She lifted the sword into the air and gazed at it, feeling its sharpness with her long, soft fingers. She turned the blade swiftly, showing her skill in swordsmanship. She placed the tip of her finger at the top of the blade. A small trickle of blood slid down. She rested the blade on the floor and wiped her finger on her brown cloak. The wheel gradually began to slow down. Calen was amazed at the beautiful brightness of her curled hair. She gave off a kindly air. Calen knew that she had to be an Elf.

"Who are you?" Calen asked. He was answered with the bubbling of a pot in a small fireplace. After some time, the Elf began to smile happily, and raised her head. Calen could not believe how beautiful she was. Something pulled him to her.

"I see you do not remember. But I would not expect you to," she smiled at him. Then, she stood up and strode towards him on the bed. She rested the back of her warm hand on Calen's cheek. "I am your mother," she said quietly, her voice breaking. Calen looked into her eyes in shock.

"I thought they killed you!" he said. She shook her head and took her hand from his face.

"I have lived in Gundabad ever since your father was killed. Long have I worn this cloak and this hood, but now, I can finally reveal myself to the one I love most. My dear son," she pulled off the cloak, revealing a dirty and ragged blue Elvish dress. Calen could tell from the look of the bottom, which was just above the knee, that she had cut the length long ago. He looked suspiciously at red stains on her legs. She was barefoot, and her feet were very dingy and gray. She gestured to Calen's tunic, which was hanging over the small fire. The hut was very small, maybe only big enough for two. Calen's mother turned and grabbed his sword while he dressed. His old outfit felt new and very clean. His mother carried his sword and scabbard to him. He sat in a chair and rested it against his leg.

"Why did you allow the Dwarves to reclaim this mountain?" she asked, her tone much harsher as she poured her son a bowl of broth. Calen froze, remembering everything that had happened.

"I can't really explain it…" Calen said softly as he lifted the wooden spoon to his lips.

"Explain it," his mother said, staring intensely at him. Calen rested his spoon in the bowl and slowly wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"I went with a scouting party to Dol Guldur, not two months ago," Calen began. His mother looked very wary of him. "We stayed there for several days, and then left. But when we returned to the camp, I kept hearing these strange whispers in my mind. It was as if someone was trying to speak to me. I ignored it, but one day, they broke through. They had a nice voice. It was very pleasant and smooth. I listened to what they said, and I followed what they said. They told me about a Dragon, one of the only ones still alive today. I took a party with me, but on the way, the voice told me to turn on Gundabad. I was confused and doubted the voice, but it told me that I would be rewarded greatly if I did. I befriended the Dragon and brought him here. He is dead because of me," Calen began to sob at the end of his monologue. He expected his mother to soothe him, but she stood up and was staring into space, deep in thought.

"Tell me, did this Dragon hear the voices too?" she asked. Calen shrugged. "He would not be ready to reveal himself. It would be too great of a risk to open Mordor," his mother said to herself. Then, she whipped towards her son. Calen flinched. "Are there any soldiers left in Gundabad?" she asked quickly and sharply.

"I believe the last of them left yesterday," Calen said. His mother slowly shook her head.

"So, he has an army now. Big enough to conquer a great portion of the world. I assume Moria is being emptied as well. And, if the Dragon was in league with him…" she continued to talk to herself. "Calen, you listen to me. You listen very carefully. An ancient evil is gathering a power so terrible that the world we know will be destroyed. Do not listen to that voice anymore. We need to leave," she grabbed Calen's shoulders tightly.

"Mother! You do not understand! I cannot fight it!" he stood up and yelled. His mother suddenly looked depressed and melancholy.

"I fell in love with your father. An Orc. The polar opposite of my race. But he was pure. The Shadow of the Past did not live within him. Yet somehow, it passed to you, even though you are not a complete Orc. You were made to serve him. I am sorry," she said, a tear falling from her eyes.

"Who is 'he'?" Calen looked at his mother suspiciously.

"Sauron, the Dark Lord. Master of the One Ring to rule them all. Lord of Mordor. I have no time to explain. You need to leave this area. It is too close to Angmar and the Dwarves will soon find you. I have already packed your things," she handed him his sack and hooked his scabbard around his waist. "If…if the Dwarves find me…I may never see you again." Calen hugged his mother and she kissed his forehead. "Remember, ignore the voice. He is trying to control you," she said as he opened the squeaky wooden door. He closed it behind him.

His mother's house was surrounded in pitch darkness. Calen looked straight up and saw glimmering lights get brighter and brighter as they climbed the cavern walls. He could hear Dwarves talking and yelling at each other. Calen could almost make out a stone stairway a little bit away from him. He started walking in the darkness.

Soon, he came across a massive rock. It was too dark to see details, only its basic shape. Calen walked around it until it grunted and winced. A low growl echoed through the darkness. Calen stopped dead in his tracks and turned. He quickly pulled his torch out of his sack and lit it. The light grew and illuminated the boulder. It took a red and gold hue, the scales beginning to shine in the light. Calen looked at the bottom of his boots. They were stained dark red with blood. A huge and rapidly growing pool came from under the wounded Dragon's body. His wings were tightly hugging his body as he groaned in pain. The black arrow stuck out of his back like a flagpole on a stone. Calen ran up to his friend. Raug's eyes were fluttering open and closed. Calen did not have any healing skill at all. He decided to run back to his mother's hut for help. Maybe she could heal him.

…

Eleluin had found the Dragon on her way down the stairs with Calen in her arms. Her son was sick, and he needed help. She quickly carried him to the hut and stripped him of his clothes. She hastily put his tunic through a bucket of warm water and hung it to dry. Calen had a minor sword wound on his stomach that was bleeding. She pulled bandage cloth from a bag and wrapped it around him. Eleluin tucked her son in with covers and ran out the door again, making her way to the Dragon. She knew that she could not help it with magic, for Dragons, like Orcs, were creations of the Enemy. She knelt in the blood of the Dragon and stroked its scaly snout. Then, she remembered someone she had met long ago.

"_Vakha en' i' kelvar, tua sina onna, tua ho_," she closed her eyes and chanted. Her mind went white, and she saw the Protector of the Forest.

"_Amin lema a' ho rato_," he told her, her mind fading back to normal. Eleluin caught her breath and touched Raug's snout once more. Then, she turned around and went back to her home.

…

Calen opened the door in a rush and flew inside.

"Moth-," he said to an empty room. The fire had been out for a long time and the soup was cold. All light was gone from the tiny hut_. She must have left_. Calen immediately remembered his dying friend and dashed back through the darkness, his torch dimming.

Calen saw someone kneeling in Raug's blood. They had a very large sack that they were continually pulling items from, such as bottles of strange liquid, pipes that blew smoke, glittering gems, and other novelties. Calen peeked over a small rock at the person. The person was apparently male, for a long, blonde beard hung down to his stomach. He was very short and stout and wore a filthy overcoat and a lopsided hat, covered in bird feces. His stringy blonde hair was wrapped around his shoulders. He held a great wooden staff. At the top was a dark blue crystal that gave off an eerie and mysterious light. He muttered words and talked to himself as Raug winced and growled.

Then, he plucked the crystal from his staff. He whispered to Raug and held the gem over his head. Nothing happened. The strange wizard put the gem back into its place and slumped over, frustrated.

"Raug? Can you hear me?" Radagast asked the Dragon.

"How…do you know my…name?" Raug asked, in and out of consciousness. Radagast stroked the massive snout before him.

"Be not afraid," he told Raug. "I am here to help you."

"I…do not want to…live anymore. Long have I been plagued by the ancient evil…that has returned," Raug winced. Radagast eyed him suspiciously, his bushy eyebrows twitching. Raug was in pain, slowly being tortured to death by his bodily functions shutting down. "You must…kill me. I must be put out of my misery," he grunted. Radagast sobbed and whined. "Please…" Raug begged, the blood spreading further. Radagast began digging in his sack once more, looking for some sort of cure. "Now!" Raug screamed deafeningly. Radagast jumped and gazed at him. He knew that there was nothing to help the poor beast. He had to be killed. Radagast hated doing this most of all. He cared deeply for life, no matter what form it took.

"I understand Raug," he said as he stood up, grabbing his staff. He held his hand on the Dragon's snout and placed the crystal next to it.

"Goodbye…father…" Raug whispered, tears flowing from his amber eyes. "I…only wanted to live…in peace with you. Maybe one day…I can fly with you…"

"Ile ier ondo," Radagast said. A bright, blue light flashed. Radagast lowered his staff. Where once was a huge Dragon, there was now a statue. Raug was dead. Calen wept profusely behind the rock. Radagast heard him sniffle and whipped around, peering into the darkness with a crazed countenance. He lifted his sack and waddled quickly up the stairway, the low blue light following him. Calen leapt over the rock and walked up to Raug.

His head was rested on his front feet, and his eyes were sad. A tear was frozen in gray on his cheek. Calen looked up at his body. Even dead, and preserved in stone, Raug was incredibly large and fearsome. Calen cried and touched his cold, shingly form. The Dwarves would soon find him. Calen touched his friend for the last time and ran up the old Dwarvish staircase. For eternity Raug would rest at the base of the mountain.

…

The shadow shifted sideways in thought. It hovered in the silver moonlight and turned another way, whispering and grumbling.

"_Calen was weak. He was insecure and the perfect piece of my plan. Now that Gundabad has fallen, the Orcs will have motivation_," Sauron muttered. "_Raug is dead, Calen is gone, my Nazgûl have not returned for weeks, and Smaug only wants revenge on Oakenshield. The days will come down under my shadow. Everything will happen as I have predicted. Yes…_" Sauron vanished back into the murky darkness of Dol Guldur.


	7. A Double Consciousness

_All dialogue belongs to Peter Jackson, Warner Bros., and Tolkien._

_Black Speech is in italics._

T.A. 2941

"How much further?" the hobbit asked, trudging up the snowy, rocky hill. His blue coat was much too big for him and hung down below his knees. His hairy feet kept him warm from the snow, but he was still not used to extreme hiking, even after going this far.

"The gate should be just ahead," the leader turned and said to him. He tenderly held the worn map in his huge hands. The sun was behind them now. "Dori! Keep up! We're running short on time!" he yelled behind him. His thick black beard was fluttering in the wind. The setting sun warmed their backs, but when the shadow of the mountain fell over them, it became quite cold. Bilbo tucked his sleeves into each other.

The Company was very spread apart. Bilbo stayed close to Thorin while the others walked alone. As they came closer to the mountain, however, they pulled closer to each other. Thorin stopped. The others did as well. The sun was very close to going behind the mountain, and Thorin was getting worried. He ordered everyone to look for a stairway carved into the side of the mountain. The Dwarves split up and began frantically looking at the steep cliffs above their heads. Bilbo squinted and walked sideways, leaning slightly. Then, he saw it. A huge Dwarf statue stood on the side of the peak, a long staircase carved into it. He yelled for Thorin and pointed. Thorin ran over to Bilbo and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"You have keen eyes, Master Baggins!" he said with glee. Bilbo looked at him, realizing that it was one of the only times he had ever seen the leader of the company smile. Thorin gestured for the other groups to rejoin them, and they made their way to the hidden door.

…

Bilbo reached his gloved hand up and grabbed the final step. His small satchel tossed around on his back and Sting's hilt clinked on the gray stone wall. With a great effort, he pulled himself up. Regaining his feet, he walked to the back of the group of Dwarves.

"This must be it. The hidden door," Thorin said quietly, looking at the map in his hands. A tall, relatively flat wall of stone rose over the Company. Bilbo looked up in amazement, then turned around and saw the beautiful orange sunset behind him. He let out a satisfied chuckle. "Let all those who doubted us, rue this day!" Thorin's voice rose loudly as he held up the key. The rest of the Dwarves broke out in cheer. Bilbo turned back around. His stomach flipped slightly with excitement. This was it. They had reached their destination.

Dwalin exited the crowd and began to feel the wall for a keyhole. Thorin and Balin chatted amongst themselves in anticipation. Bilbo stood watching. Nori was called up now, clinking on the wall for an echo or hollow spot. Dwalin began to aggressively kick the stone in frustration. Nori muttered at Dwalin. Bilbo could feel the confusion and despair emanating from the Dwarves.

"Break it down!" Thorin commanded. Half of the Company approached the door with hammers and axes and began hacking away at the stone. Thorin looked impatiently at the setting sun and tapped his boot on the ground.

…

Several distant clinks echoed through the dormant silence like a needle dropping on the floor. The piles of gold stretched endlessly into the dark abyss that was once a great kingdom. A louder clink shot through the halls of Erebor. With a great swooshing sound, a massive pile of gold moved and turned, then settled down once more. The moment the Dragon had been waiting over two hundred years for was about to play out, right under his snout.

…

"You can't give up now!" Bilbo shouted after Thorin. The sun was set, and the sky was inky blue, slowly becoming black. Many clouds inched over the stars. Bilbo sighed and looked at the key lying helplessly on the ground. He was shocked. For many moments, he remained facing the direction in which the Dwarves had left. _I will not give up this easily. There must be a way. What did we miss…?_ Bilbo thought. He muttered the moon rune translation to himself, pacing in circles, stumbling about, stroking his chin and thinking. "The last light. The last…light," he said. Then, looking up in the sky, he saw the clouds part in one place, revealing a huge, bright, and silver full moon. A small clicking caused him to turn back towards the wall. A thrush sat upon a rock, smashing a snail shell onto the stone. Bilbo's head spun as he saw all of the puzzle pieces fitting together before his eyes. A thick band of pure moonlight landed on the wall. "The last light!" Bilbo laughed, not believing his eyes. The white light revealed a tiny crevice, with a hole shaped just like the key. Bilbo ran to the edge of the cliff. "Come back! Come back! It's the light of the moon! The last moon of autumn! Ha!" he felt very proud of himself and gestured towards the moon with the map, a wide grin on his face. Then, he remembered that the key was still on the ground. "Where is the key? Where is the key? Where's the…" he whispered to himself, spinning rapidly in circles. "It was here. Come on. It was just…" he muttered, spinning around.

Bilbo watched in slow-motion. His heart leapt to his throat as he saw that he had kicked the key towards the edge of the cliff. His mouth was agape. _Tink! Tink! Thud!_ A great iron boot stomped upon the string attached to the key, suspending it off of the cliff. Bilbo watched as Thorin carefully slid down, plucking the key from under his foot. He lifted it up and smirked at Bilbo. He valiantly faced the wall, key in hand. Suddenly, all of the Dwarves lined up with Thorin, staring blankly at the keyhole. Bilbo stumbled backwards as Thorin strode up to the wall. He inserted the key and turned it. A low, stony grinding sound echoed from deep within the wall. Thorin stepped back, and pushed on the door with all of his might.

One creak, one single crack, one sliding of a stone door would leave a lake city in flames, and the Line of Durin wiped out. No one knew.

The Dwarves walked into the hall. Some felt like ghosts returning to their home. The hallway was very dark. Bilbo was at the back. He suddenly felt uneasy as he entered. Something else was here.

…

Bilbo and Balin separated from the group, walking further down the hall.

"You want me to find a jewel?" Bilbo asked. He had left his satchel and gloves behind.

"A large, whit jewel, yes," Balin nodded, his long snowy beard shaking.

"That's it? Only I imagine there's quite a few down there," Bilbo said, peeking around the corner.

"There is only one Arkenstone. And you'll know it when you see it," Balin smiled and patted Bilbo on the shoulder.

"Right…" Bilbo said nervously. Balin stopped and sighed.

"In truth, lad…I do not know what you will find down there. You needn't go if you don't want to. There's no dishonor in turning back."

"No Balin…" Bilbo's voice cracked. "I promised I would do this. And I think I must try." Balin smiled and chuckled to himself.

"It never ceases to amaze me."

"What's that?"

"The courage of Hobbits," Balin grinned. "Go now, with as much luck as you can muster." Bilbo began to tiptoe down the old hallway. "Oh. And Bilbo?" Balin asked.

"Hm?" Bilbo turned to face him.

"If there is, in fact, a…live Dragon down there…don't waken it," Balin's voice took a tone of seriousness. Bilbo nodded slowly and gulped. He started down the hall again, but turned back. Balin was gone. He looked back to the hallway and began to walk again.

…

Bilbo came to the edge of the hallway. He could see that he had entered a large cavernous room. With several tender steps, he walked to the edge of a stairway.

There was nothing but gold as far as the eye could see. Ancient Dwarvish pillars shot into the air in random places, supporting the ceiling of the massive room. He made his way down the stairs and stepped up to the pile of gold.

The silence here was unnerving. He felt very uneasy. Some other living presence was here, he knew it. _Dragon?_ his mind taunted him. He shook his head furiously and took a step onto the treasure horde. The coins were very cool, and clinked together as he took steps gingerly. Bilbo saw a white gem at his feet. He picked it up. Realizing it was not what he was looking for, he tossed it to the side. It crashed into a pile of coins, breaking the silence. Bilbo was very startled.

"Arkenstone…Arkenstone. A large white jewel. Very helpful…" he whispered, looking around at the ridiculous amount of treasure.

Bilbo spent what seemed like an eternity rummaging through old chests. Eventually, on a lumpier portion of gold, he saw a beautiful golden chalice. He smiled and picked it up. The gold began to slide down, making a rushing sound similar to that of water. Bilbo looked up.

For a moment, his brain froze. He could not comprehend what was before him. Then, he realized that it was a huge, scaly eyelid. His face went blank. The eyelid shot open without warning, revealing a big amber colored eye. Bilbo crouched to the ground. The eye blinked several times, and then the gold began to move. An entire body was climbing out of the pile. Bilbo panicked and dropped the chalice. The head moved, and was about to make eye contact with the small creature. Bilbo tapped his pockets quickly and whimpered. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and slid it onto his finger in a hurry. He was safe from view now.

The rushing of the gold stopped, but was replaced with a loud, heavy breathing. He could feel something behind him.

"Well…thief…" a menacing and extremely deep and reptilian voice echoed into the darkness. The gold shifted, and Bilbo could tell that he was moving. He ran up the pile of gold and stood against a pillar, trying his best to breathe quietly.

He was dwarfed by the beast. He was barely taller than the bottom of its snout. The great head looked sideways around the pillar, its nostrils moving back and forth rapidly. His head was covered in golden red scales. Some short, scaled spikes protruded from the top of his head and the bottom of his jaw. His long neck seemed to wrap around the stone pillar.

"I…smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air. Where are you?" the Dragon asked. His head moved right in front of Bilbo's small body. "Where are you?" he asked demandingly. Bilbo stayed frozen against the cool stone, the ring on his finger. The world was distorted to his vision, waving and rippling. "Come now, don't be shy. Step into the light," Smaug said as he looked around the gold.

Smaug was annoyed to be woken from his sleep. He was even more angered when he heard the faint whisper in the back of his mind.

"_I…can see someone…" _Sauron sounded alarmed. "_Someone is there…against the pillar._" Smaug looked suspiciously at the pillar in front of his snout. Sauron took the reins of his consciousness and began speaking through him.

"There is…something about you. Something you carry. Something made of gold," Sauron leaned Smaug's body towards the Hobbit. "But far…more…precious…" Bilbo heard the word ringing in the void. He felt strange. Something deep and dark was stirring inside of the Dragon. He began shaking his head violently.

Suddenly, a great eye, formed from flames assaulted his mind. Bilbo panicked and pulled off the ring. Smaug felt his own consciousness return as he saw the thief appear.

"There you are, thief in the shadows," he hissed, hearing '_ash nazg_' echo and fade from his ears. He knew what Sauron was after. Bilbo held the ring in his fingers, ready to put it back on at a moment's notice. He stared in terror at the beast in front of him.

"I did not come to steal from you, oh Smaug…" the creature continued to speak, but Smaug heard another voice.

"_Burn him where he stands! You know what is between his fingers!_" Sauron hissed. Smaug waited for an opportune moment.

"…I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence. To see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them," the short person whimpered at the end. Smaug rushed through the gold and stood on his back feet, stretching out his wings.

"And do you now?" he growled loudly. Bilbo looked in horror at the size of the Dragon. He stuttered and stammered for a moment.

"Truly. The tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, oh Smaug, the stupendous," the Hobbit said gingerly and shook his head. Smaug looked curiously at the small creature and grinned slightly.

"Do you think flattery will keep you alive?" he asked, coming closer to the Hobbit once more.

"No. No…" Bilbo said nervously, trying his hardest to act calm. Smaug huffed.

"No indeed. You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before," the Dragon sniffed the air lightly. "Who are you? And where do you come from? If I may ask…" he questioned curiously. Bilbo opened his mouth, but peripherally saw a misty glowing. He turned his head slightly. That was it. That was the Arkenstone. The Dragon was waiting impatiently.

"_Snaga! You are wasting your time! Kill him!_" Sauron shrieked. Smaug wanted to play with his food first. He liked the creature, but only slightly. He knew why he was here, and who was with him. Today was the day.

"I…I come from Underhill," Bilbo said warily, attempting a few small steps towards Thorin's prize.

"Underhill?" Smaug asked, intrigued. Bilbo nodded and glanced at the Arkenstone again.

"And under hills and over hills my path has led. And through the air, I am he who walks unseen," Bilbo told the Dragon, nervously looking to his right. He jumped as Smaug leaned in and spoke right in front of Bilbo's tiny nose.

"Impressive…what else do you claim to be?" Smaug hissed, intentionally baring his massive fangs. The Hobbit got chills at the sight of them, and smelled the Dragon's old and putrid breath.

"I am lu-luck wearer…rid-riddle maker…" Bilbo stammered apprehensively.

"Lovely titles. Go on," Smaug told the Hobbit to continue.

"Barrel rider," Bilbo smiled.

"_Enough games! Kill him, or you are next!_" Smaug shook off the voice. He was determined to find Thorin. He knew he was here.

"Barrels?" he asked, faking exasperation. "Now that is interesting. And what about your little Dwarf friends?" he spat. "Where are they hiding?" Bilbo feigned a chuckle and shook his head.

"Dwarves? No, no, no. No Dwarves here. You've got that all wrong!" he faked miserably.

"Oh, I don't think so…barrel rider," Smaug bared his fangs once more and hissed. "They sent you in here to do their dirty work while they skulk about outside!" he yelled. Bilbo attempted once more.

"Truly, you are mistaken, oh Smaug, chiefest and greatest of calamities." Smaug turned his back to Bilbo and began to bellow. Bilbo sneaked through the gold towards the Arkenstone as Smaug went into a rage. He remembered Raug, and was desperate to watch Oakenshield burn and die before him.

"Did you think I would not know this day would come? When a pack of canting Dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain!" Smaug turned and saw what Bilbo was after. Just as the Hobbit reached for the stone, Smaug whipped his tail through the gold, and Bilbo went sliding down the pile, his slightly curly brown hair flying behind him and the Arkenstone bouncing down the slope before him.

"_Yes!_" the deep voice squealed in Smaug's ears. He went down to see where the Hobbit vanished to. He stomped through the coins.

"The King under the Mountain is dead! I took his throne! I ate his people like a wolf among sheep," Smaug roared and growled. Bilbo desperately tried to grasp the object bouncing before his feet. "I kill where I wish, when I wish! No blade can pierce me. My armor is iron!" he yelled through Erebor. That was a false statement, he knew. He worried that Thorin might have a black arrow with him. "It's Oakenshield! That filthy Dwarvish usurper! He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn't he?" Smaug asked. He was almost talking to himself more than to Bilbo. The Hobbit was now underneath a large stone table, supported by pillars. Smaug's black claws were wrapped around the pillar nearest to Bilbo. His great head hovered somewhere above.

The Hobbit let out a few words, trying desperately to cover up what was really going on.

"Don't bother denying it. I guessed his foul purpose some time ago," Smaug was suddenly possessed by Sauron a second time. "But it matters not. Oakenshield's quest will fail. A darkness is coming. It will spread to every corner of the land," Sauron hinted to the Hobbit through the words of the great Fire Drake. Bilbo spun the ring in his pocket in nervousness. Sauron momentarily left Smaug's body. "You are being used, thief in the shadows. You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life and found it worth…nothing," Smaug taunted the hidden Bilbo. "What did he promise you? A share of the treasure? Ha! As if it was his to give…" the Dragon laughed. "I will not part with a single coin! Not one piece of it!" Bilbo made a run for the Arkenstone. Yet again, Smaug's tail rushed through the gold, sending Bilbo swimming through coins and gems.

He was now in full view of the Dragon once again. His palms were extremely sweaty. Smaug lifted up into the air.

"My teeth are swords! My claws are spears! My wings…are a hurricane!" he bellowed. Bilbo looked up and noticed a decently large hole in the right chest of the beast.

"So it is true. The Black Arrow found its mark!" Bilbo whispered in astonishment. Smaug leaned in closer to the Hobbit.

"What did you say?" he hissed quickly. Yet again, Bilbo tried to cover his tracks.

"I-I was just saying…your reputation precedes you, oh Smaug, the tyrannical. Truly, you have no equal on this earth." Bilbo stepped back and noticed the Arkenstone at his feet. Smaug saw it too, glimmering like a star.

"I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him. Watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad! But I think not. I think our little game ends here. So tell me, thief. How do you choose to die?" Bilbo knew he would burn. He slipped the ring onto his finger and heard Smaug's jaws snap closed behind him as he sprinted back to the exit. A hot conflagration followed him as he stepped up the stairs.

…

"_Good…kill the Hobbit and then the Dwarves. We can make Erebor a stronghold…closer to Mordor. Burn them_," Sauron told the Dragon as he tromped through the gold.

…

Gandalf held on to the rusty rods of the cage. He sat in a cramped and uncomfortable position. The cage swung slowly back and forth in the whipping wind. Blood was dried on his forehead from a large gash just below his hair. His staff was gone, along with Glamdring, but the Enemy had spared him his pipe. He smoked and muttered in the cage, choking slightly on his smoke. Gandalf had known for some time that others would attempt to take Erebor, but never had he imagined a force as great as that which he had just seen marching through Mirkwood. He was weary and stressed.

"_Mithrandir…_" a deep and brooding voice sneered from behind. Gandalf remained looking forward, continuing to talk to himself and puff smoke. "_I would love to watch you die._" The thick cloud of shadow swung around to the front of the cage. Gandalf looked at Sauron with a brave might.

"Smaug will be killed eventually. You will not have a Fire Drake on your side for much longer," Gandalf stated boldly, still taking whiffs of his pipe.

"_Ah…of course, Wizard. Nothing is hidden to you. Now, what if I told you that a Ring of Power lies within these very walls_?" the shadow demonically laughed. Gandalf was surprised. That was something he did not know of.

"How? Where did you find it?" Gandalf asked.

"_Look to your left._" Gandalf glanced suspiciously at Sauron and turned. There was another cage, not ten feet from him, where a smaller body rested. A much overgrown gray and black beard hung below the person's crotch. He was practically clothed in rags. Gandalf noticed him twitching and whispering to himself. One of his eyes was missing, replaced with ugly scar tissue.

"Thrain?!" Gandalf sat up and snuffed out his pipe.

"_Hardly living now. He is more of a shell of his former self. I imagine Thorin has been searching for him in these parts. I should have liked very much to see him tortured as well_," Sauron cackled loudly and vanished into the fortress.

An Orc on the tower cranked the squeaky lever and moved Gandalf's cage right in front of Thrain's. He watched the Dwarf, mentally upset, not even paying attention to him. Gandalf was reminded of someone he had met before…some creature. Gandalf wrapped himself in his cloak and looked over the treetops. The alliance between Smaug and the resurgent Sauron troubled him greatly. He wished he was there to protect the Company.

"Bilbo…be strong," Gandalf said. He could barely see the tip of a peak in the distance to the east.

…

Smaug saw the two short figures talking near the hallway. He snarled and grinned. They seemed as if they were fighting about something. He walked closer and saw the person he hated most in the world. Thorin Oakenshield stood not twenty paces from him.

"You will burn!" Smaug bellowed. The Hobbit and the Dwarf looked up and ran into the hallway at full speed, Smaug's fire chasing them from behind. The other Dwarves were already inside the mountain, Smaug could smell them. They ran down a hallway far from the gold pile. He tromped to the area and looked around. It was a bit too dark for him to see. Suddenly, he caught view of a group of thirteen Dwarves to his right. He ran quickly towards them and roared. They ran into a small doorway like mice running from a cat. Thorin peeked out. Smaug unleashed his breath of fire and saw that he successfully landed a few flames on Thorin's coat before he too ran inside. Smaug knew the tunnels well and made his way to where they would be headed.

…

Smaug reached the bridge room. He remembered well the first day he had set his eyes upon this place. Thorin would pay the price of death for killing Raug. He grabbed onto bridges and pillars, slinking through the darkness, always looking for the intruders.

Smaug felt a coin inside of his nose. He huffed and snorted, and it went flying out, tinkling as it fell against a walkway below.

It was some time before he smelled the pungent odor of Dwarf once more. He looked beneath him. Suddenly, he saw movement. The Hobbit, Thorin, and another, much older Dwarf saw Smaug's gaze and began running down a bridge below him.

"Flee! Flee! Run for your lives! There is nowhere to hide!" Smaug hissed as he lowered his head to the walkway. The Dwarves began yelling at each other and running around frantically. Smaug saw his chance and gathered fire into his chest. Then, at another point, some Dwarves began jumping and yelling at him. He made his way to them as they ran away. Fire burst from his throat and towards the fleeing Dwarves.

"_Enough games!_" Sauron whispered in his ear.

…

Thorin stood on Smaug's snout, wobbling back and forth, a sword in his hand. Smaug grinned and opened his mouth to consume him. Then, the Dwarf grabbed onto a bucket above him. Smaug saw him go up, the bucket carrying him quickly to the top. The Fire Drake unleashed his flames upward, chasing the wooden bucket as it climbed. The bucket was gone. He climbed the walls quickly to see what had happened. An infamously familiar voice shouted down the hole.

"I did not look to see you so easily outwitted!" the voice cried as Smaug's giant head surfaced from the sinkhole. "You have grown slow, and fat, in your dotage. Slug!" Thorin yelled from behind the large gate. Smaug felt a burning fury shoot through his body. The Dwarves got behind pillars as the Dragon shot fire in between them. Bilbo clutched the stone at his back and struggled to breathe through the hot air consuming the room. The forges were extremely large, and the Dragon could easily break down the gate.

Smaug realized his mistake. It was all part of their plan. A loud whoosh echoed throughout the cavern. The forges were reignited. He saw the Dwarves talking to each other. The Dragon could not hold in his hate. He bashed his body against the iron gate, severely denting it. With several more blows, the gate was broken in two. The Company scattered to fulfill their parts in the plan.

Smaug sneered as he stepped through the gate. He saw Thorin not far off and broke through to pursue him. The Hobbit was up on a ledge, but he ignored him and went after his main goal.

"_Kill the Halfling! Kill him!_" Sauron obsessively screamed at Smaug. He ignored him again. Smaug crept around the forges and turned to his left. There stood Thorin, a look of fear in his eyes. Smaug hissed and gathered fire in his chest.

"Now!" Thorin screamed. Smaug saw the Hobbit jump and pull a lever. Huge spouts of water came crashing down upon him. His chest squealed and sizzled. Steam rose from his throat and he choked. He roared in rage and whipped his tail at Thorin, flying clumsily backwards.

After some time, he regained his strength. The forges were repeatedly bursting with flames as Smaug slinked back to where he had last seen Thorin.

"_You can easily get your revenge on Oakenshield another time. First, you must kill the Hobbit!_" Smaug continued towards Thorin, who stood staring at the beast coming for him. He walked past where Bilbo was standing.

Out of nowhere, a clay pot smashed against Smaug's scales, hot blue flames covering his body. He shook it off and gripped the wall, when another nailed him in the chest. His rage was overflowing now. He was about to reach Thorin for a second time, when a line of carts carried by a long cord fell upon him, dumping their hard contents onto his back. Smaug struggled and spun around, getting tangled in the rope. He whipped his tail and roared, attempting to shake off the trap. Then, he smelled burning metal. A long line of molten gold traveled down a small route. He shook off the carts, sending them to fly all around the room.

Then, he saw the Dwarf he hated most running under his feet with a wheelbarrow. He jumped onto it and slid into the river of gold. Smaug finally threw the trap off of his body and bellowed. He saw Thorin down the river and made a run for him. Thorin slipped under a very small door. He could not follow him.

A wall in front of him completely collapsed. He looked into the rubble. The Hobbit lay on his back. He gained his footing and turned around. Smaug grinned and began to chase him.

"Keep going, Bilbo!" he heard Thorin yell. Smaug violently followed the dashing Halfling as he fell down a stone ramp and slid into a larger, darker room. He saw him run tiredly through a small doorway. Smaug gathered his rage and smashed through the wall, sending banners to ripple and collapse to the floor. The Hobbit was nowhere to be seen.

"You think you can deceive me, barrel rider?" he said, realizing that Bilbo was hiding under a fallen banner. "You have come from Lake Town!" he yelled, as he began to talk to himself. "This is some sordid scheme hatched between these filthy Dwarves and those miserable trading Lakemen. Those sniveling cowards with their longbows and black arrows!"

Immediately, he thought of Raug. He had to get his revenge on someone.

"Perhaps, it is time I paid them a visit!" he hissed and sneered. The Dragon turned and walked to the gate. To his surprise, he heard the Hobbit yelling behind him.

"This isn't their fault! Wait! You cannot go to Lake Town!" Bilbo shouted at Smaug. The Fire Drake stopped and slowly turned around.

"You…care about them?" he purred to Barrel Rider. "Good. Then you can watch them die!" Smaug laughed evilly and stomped to the gate.

"Here, you witless worm!" Thorin's voice echoed through the hall. Smaug turned around, his wings barely fitting in between the pillars.

"You…" he growled. The Dwarf stood upon a great mound of rough stone. He held a chain that was connected to the ceiling. Other chains were attached to other parts of the stone, seeming to hold it together.

"I am taking back what you stole," Thorin said valiantly. Smaug looked up to him as he slowly made his way to the rock.

"You will take nothing from me, Dwarf. I laid low your warriors of old. I instill terror in the hearts of men. I…am King…under the Mountain!" Smaug rumbled his throat. He grabbed the walls next to him and rose up to meet Thorin's gaze.

"This is not your kingdom. These are Dwarf lands. This is Dwarf gold. And we will have our revenge!" he yelled at the Dragon. Smaug chuckled. The only one leaving with revenge would be himself. Revenge for Raug.

The Dwarf prince yelled something in Dwarvish. Smaug watched as the chains were torn from the sculpture. Thorin tightly grabbed the chain and hung above what was now a massive, golden statue of a Dwarf.

Smaug was taken by its beauty. He stood before it for a long time.

"_They are deceiving you! Kill them!_" Sauron said. Smaug realized that it indeed was a trick when hot, molten gold burst from the statue, soaking his body and drowning him. He flapped his wings and roared as he was consumed by the waves. Then, he stopped. The gold began to harden quickly. Without warning, he burst out of the gold. It was heavily stuck to his body now, and he had lost control of his rage.

"Revenge? Revenge!" he yelled as he tried to shake off the hot liquid metal. "I'll show you revenge!" Raug would be avenged, and Thorin would die. He burst out of the ancient gate like a wild boar. Rocks flew everywhere around him. He had not been in fresh air in two hundred years.

"_Smaug! Smaug! You traitor! You are meant to follow me, snaga! Get my Ring! Smaug! Smaug!_" Sauron screamed like a baby. Smaug shook the voice away. He did not have to follow Sauron. He should be free.

Flying into the starry sky, the gold spun off of his scales and glittered like stars to the ground below. He spread his wings and glided through the night sky, seeing the sleepy and peaceful Lake-town in the distance. "I am fire. I am…DEATH." The Dragon flew silently to his doom.

…

Smaug hovered over the waters. His wings made violent waves on the surface. The town was blazing bright.

The arrow whizzed quickly through the air. Smaug barely saw it. It landed directly in his empty scale. The black arrow went far into his chest, severing heartstrings and arteries. He now knew how Raug felt. The world began to spin around him. He flapped his wings spasmodically. Sauron hissed at Smaug and finally left his mind for good.

The black shadow of an archer flickered between the tall flames.

"Thank you," Smaug whispered. He felt himself begin to fall downward towards the water. "We are free, Raug. We are finally free." He impacted with the water. As he sank down into the frigid depths, the water filled his lungs. The era of the Fire Drakes was over. Sauron's greatest weapon had fallen. Somehow, a small babe not fifty years later would discover their legacy.

And that is where the next tale begins.


End file.
